


Temptress

by Rhaized



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: (to be fair so many of us are), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Experimental Theology, F/F, Marisa is looking for her daughter, Mary Malone and Marisa Coulter meet, Mary is starstruck by Marisa for a reason she can't quite explain, Mary is worried about Marisa's daughter, Talk of daemon severing, They strike an alliance of sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/pseuds/Rhaized
Summary: After meeting Lyra for the first time, Mary Malone receives a surprise guest at her office: a beautiful, mysterious woman named Marisa.Interactions between two people who should never actually meet.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Comments: 211
Kudos: 333





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw some Marisa x Mary fanart by magscherer on tumblr (https://magscherer.tumblr.com/post/635515210721001472/mary-x-marisa-anyone) and I couldn’t get the idea of them interacting out of my head. So let's do this and see where it goes :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Lyra for the first time, Mary Malone receives a surprise guest at her office: a beautiful, mysterious woman named Marisa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 is set between episode 2 and 3 of HDM season 2. Of course this would never happen in canon, but let’s pretend Mrs. Coulter made her way to Will’s world as fast as she could and then ended up here.

Mary was right in the middle of yet another computation when she heard a light knock on the door. 

She froze mid-click, her ears trained toward the back of her dimly-lit office. Her heart started beating faster as she sat up in her seat, mentally running through her schedule to think of anyone she'd possibly be meeting with this early in the morning. It was only just past five o’clock, after all, and most academics she knew barely made it on time for nine o’clock meetings. Why would someone be here so early at her door?

Then again, Mary didn’t really know what to expect anymore. It’d been an extraordinary day, to say the least. After the most curious visit from that inquisitive girl named Lyra, Mary had dived straight into further ways she could get the Cave to talk to her. This included poring over various coding languages she could use to somehow try and rewire the machine to communicate with her in the way it had done with Lyra. She didn’t know what she was doing, really, and she wasn’t much of a computer scientist, but she didn't have a choice. This was what she had to do. She could practically _feel_ the discovery that was just waiting to be made, in the same way she could feel her own shadow. She hadn't yet slept; she’d spent every single, available moment working toward this goal. And she would succeed. She _had_ to. 

"Hello," said a woman as soon as Mary opened the door. She was beautiful and young, with dark hair curled craftily around her round face and eyes the brightest shade of blue. She looked strange in a way Mary couldn’t quite describe. Out of place, almost. Out of _time,_ as her red dress ensemble looked antique and classic in a way she’d only ever seen in movies and TV shows.

There was also something about her that felt faintly familiar.

"H-hi," Mary finally let out. "Can I help you?" 

"Are you Dr. Mary Malone?" 

Another person who not only was _looking_ for her but who also happened to know her _actual name_. Mary couldn’t help the frown that started to set around her brow. Something very, very strange was happening to her. Stranger than she'd even imagined. 

“Yes, that’s me.” After a pause of the woman simply staring at her, head tilted to the side, Mary cleared her throat and opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in, then?”

“I would,” the woman said, a smile curving up onto her red lips. Mary’s eyes were drawn to them immediately. “Thank you very much.”

“Of course. But, uh, sorry for the mess...” 

Mary was, up until yesterday, planning on packing up everything as her funding had run dry. She had some cardboard boxes spread out next to her bookcases, where she’d pack away the essentials but likely try to pawn off the rest on other researchers in the building. Books grew on you over time like residue, constantly building up until one day there’s too much of it and you don’t know what to do with it. That’s how Mary felt, at any rate, about her office supplies but most things in life. 

“Not at all,” the woman said softly, weaving between boxes and books as she made her way over to one of the armchairs. She carried a dark brown handbag with her that she kept over her left shoulder. It seemed heavy, now that Mary looked at it, and when the woman set it down beside her on the ground, Mary thought she heard a strange sort of hiss coming from it. Like an animal of sorts.

She _really_ needed sleep. Or, rather, more _coffee._

“Can I offer you some coffee? And, er...what is your name?”

“Marisa,” she said, smiling again. A flash of perfect white. “And I would love some. Thank you so much for your kindness and hospitality.”

Mary again had the oddest sensation of déjà vu. She’d never seen this woman before, she was certain. It would hard be to forget her. So why was it as she pressed the button for the keurig to run and fiddled with the mini-fridge to get out some creamer Mary couldn’t help but feel like she’d felt this woman’s presence before? She couldn’t possibly explain it, and she didn’t fully understand it. But something just _struck_ her.

“Here you are,” she said a few minutes later, handing Marisa a mug and then pushing over the carton of creamer and some sugar packets on the coffee table. “Help yourself.”

“Excellent.” Marisa poured some cream into her coffee and then emptied two packets of sugar into it. She moved quickly and methodically, Mary noticed. Her movements were light and purposeful, restrained and intentional. “It’s been a long night, so I appreciate the extra energy.”

“Where are you from, Marisa?” Mary decided to ask. Surely she can make sense of this and figure out what was going on. “Are you from a department here at St. Peter’s, or...from another institution?”

“I’m not from here,” the other woman drawled very carefully. She bit her lip just then, and Mary felt herself squirm and her brow only creased more. 

She wasn’t the first person to tell Mary that she wasn’t “from here.” Lyra had said something even more plainly: she was from another world. Not another _school,_ but another _world._ Another world with something called the Magisterium and Dust and people who were seeking to destroy it, because it was thought to be “original sin.”

Did Marisa know about Dust? Was she part of the Magisterium? Did she know Lyra? 

“So, not from Oxford?” Mary pressed. 

“London,” Marisa said, her voice measured. “But I’ve come a long way overnight for a very specific purpose.”

“And what purpose is that?”

"I'm looking for someone," she said then. Marisa’s blue eyes bore into Mary's. It was like a shockwave hit her, and she _felt_ more than actually saw the things Marisa didn’t quite say. She felt desperation and urgency and fear and something that almost resembled hysteria. All Mary could do was stare back, her mouth gaping slightly as this woman and her emotions simply trampled over her. "And I was hoping you might be able to help me."

"Who are you looking for?" Mary breathed, but she half-expected the answer and wasn't surprised when she heard it. 

"Lyra. A little girl named Lyra. I'm afraid she's lost and I'm trying my best to find her and keep her safe."

It all made sense, yet it didn’t. Mary was struck by her memory of Lyra sitting down, defeated, not too far from where Marisa herself was now sitting. " _I’m doing it all wrong,”_ the girl had groaned, burying her face in her hands. _“This matters. This matters_ **_so_ ** _much. I’ve traveled so far, and I find myself here.”_

And now this _Marisa_ person found herself here. Looking for a girl from another world. Something about it all felt entirely off-putting. It felt _wrong_ as she looked at the woman who seemed so gentle and sweet and currently so upset. Mary wanted to help her. It was instinctual, perhaps, to help someone in need. It was part of Mary’s nature, and she could never figure out how to turn off the way she seemed to subsume the emotions of other people as if they were her own. Too empathetic for her own good. 

But, again: something was _off_ here _._ And Mary realized she had to be very, very careful and protective of this strange girl from another world who had changed everything for her.

“I don’t know of a girl named Lyra,” Mary answered, looking back at the woman with what was actually genuine concern. “I’m so sorry to hear that she’s lost. Is she...your daughter?”

That hit a nerve, it seemed. Marisa’s jaw clenched then, as if she were struck. Her eyes also drifted down toward the handbag, which Mary _thought_ she saw move, perhaps, but then the woman’s eyes were trained back to her, filled with such breathtaking sadness.

“She is,” Marisa said, her voice barely audible. “My only child. And I’ve lost her.”

“Oh,” Mary breathed, her mind whirling. This was Lyra’s mother. Lyra had mentioned something about her father, and something he did with Dust. How did the mother fit in, Mary couldn’t help but wonder? Was Lyra running _from_ or _to_ her? How could she be sure? What was she to do?

“You really haven’t seen her?” Marisa asked, taking the tissue that Mary had offered to her. Her fingers brushed Mary’s ever so slightly and she very nearly shuddered.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Mary looked over at her then, taking in the way the woman’s eyes narrowed just the faintest bit before she bowed her head. “I’ve been working all day and night here in my office and lab. Haven’t seen much of anyone lately.”

“What is it you study, Dr. Malone?” Marisa wasn’t looking up at her, but Mary felt a burst of intensity fill the air now. The tension was thick, and she had the notion Marisa very well might already know.

“Dark matter,” she simply said, still watching the other woman. “Particles of energy that we don’t know very much about.”

“It's Dust.” Marisa’s head snapped up, which surprised Mary more than it should have. Her sadness and suspicion were gone now and replaced entirely with a burning curiosity. Mary recognized that look. It was the look of a fellow scholar, a fellow researcher who dedicated their life to questions that hardly anyone else could understand. “Of course it is.”

“Dust?” Mary feigned, trying to remember how she’d reacted with Lyra to let that guide her response now. Except this time it all felt very critical that she get her response right.

“I just—dark matter,” Marisa mused, turning to look around the office as if she’d only just noticed it. “What’s that?” She was looking at the computer. Her reaction wasn’t that much different from Lyra’s. She seemed surprised yet intrigued as she took in the blinking lights and wires and dual monitors.

“My desktop?” Mary said back.

“I see.” Marisa dipped her head and turned back to Mary, all her excitement and wonder gone almost as quickly as it arrived. How curious, Mary thought as she gazed at her. How remarkable, yet potentially concerning, for her to switch on and off like that. Mary had so many questions in that moment.

“Well, Dr. Malone, I do apologize for intruding,” Marisa sighed after a few more beats. “I’ve been awfully rude and abrupt and you’ve been so patient with me at this early hour.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine," Mary stammered, rising as Marisa rose from her seat. “I’m just sorry I can’t help you, Marisa.”

The woman looked at her again with an unsettling sort of look. It was inscrutable yet alarming. Mary wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“I appreciate your time again. And if you do happen to see my daughter, I’d greatly appreciate your help.”

Mary was mystified as the woman nodded again and then headed for the door. It was then that Mary realized she had no way to contact this woman again, if she ever chose to. 

Or, as she increasingly was feeling, it she ever _wanted_ to. 

"Oh! Do you, uh, have a phone number?" Mary called to her as the woman's hand touched the doorknob. She felt her face flush, in spite of herself. "In case I... hear anything? About Lyra?" 

Marisa smiled again. It was gleeful, animated. If Mary didn't know any better, she would almost say _predatory_. 

"Of course," she said lightly, coming back over. "My phone number. How silly of me to forget giving it to you. May I borrow a pen?" 

Mary fished around on her desk for a pad of paper and a pen that still worked (it took her a few tries). She then turned back around and handed it to Marisa, who took the pen but left the paper. 

"You can call me any time," she said gently, taking Mary's arm and writing down a number on the pale flesh on her forearm. Marisa's hands were soft and smooth. Like butter. And as Marisa stood close and bent forward ever so slightly, Mary smelled the sweet scent of lavender and honey mixed in a strange and exotic combination. 

"O-okay," Mary said, returning the woman's smile as best she could. She couldn't quite control how nervously her body was responding. 

"Thank you."

And with one last glance at Mary, Marisa was gone and out the door, cradling her dark brown handbag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to i-dont-like-donuts on tumblr for helping me figure out how to refer to the kind of coding Mary would be doing here! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Mary tries desperately to get the Cave to talk to her and then discovers Lyra is in trouble with the police, she begins to wonder if Marisa might be able to help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After hearing from y'all in the comments: okay, let's continue this :) I feel like I hardly know what I'm doing here, but the two of them together in this AU just feels too appealing to pass up. Apologies if this feels too out of character/canonically divergent for you. I can totally respect that!
> 
> This chapter is set at the beginning of season 2 episode 3 of HDM. I will continue to draw inspiration from the show as we go along.

Mary awoke rather unceremoniously to the morning light trickling in from her office window, which caused her to sneeze. She had been resting with her head smashed against a particularly thick python coding guide. Wiping her nose, she slowly stretched her arms and then put a hand on her mouth, brushing aside some drool. 

_What happened?_ she asked herself as she took in the messy pile of books in front of her and, glancing down, a phone number inked lightly onto her forearm.

_Oh._

Mary blushed as she stared down at her right arm and the neat, tidy handwriting stamped onto it. Marisa had written it there. Lyra’s mother. A strange woman from a strange world with an even stranger presence about her. 

Her computer said that it was eight o’clock in the morning already. She must have dozed off for a few hours. Yawning again (she was still _so_ very tired, she realized), Mary picked up a pen with her left hand and messily scribbled down the phone number. She found herself thinking about Marisa’s face as she copied the number down. The woman had great bone structure, and such expressive eyes. It’d been a while since Mary had met someone as charismatic as that, which is perhaps what made it so hard to stop thinking about her. 

It almost didn’t feel real. The encounter felt like a dream that Mary only just vaguely remembered— there yet not quite. It had happened so fast, too. Marisa was in her office for...ten minutes? Not even? She’d questioned Mary about the whereabouts of her daughter, and then asked about Mary’s work and her equipment. Her eyes had flashed during discussions of it, with a certain essence of recognition and wonder that still struck Mary so profoundly. 

Indeed, this had only happened a few hours ago, although napping sometimes made events feel like they occured much longer ago than they actually did. A lot _had_ happened to Mary in the past twenty-four hours alone, so she shouldn’t be too hard on herself. Nothing quite made sense and the best she could do was go along with it and hope she wasn’t going completely and utterly mad—even when she increasingly feared that she was. 

Her tinkering in the lab was uneventful, as she very much expected.

“What did you tell Lyra?” she asked the machine, murmuring aloud as she looked at the code and the lines on the screen. Nothing. She couldn’t get the reaction that Lyra had, with her eyes closed, mind stilled, and concentration _just_ right. She was missing something, even though she’d tried to rewire the code and adjust her calculations as best as she knew how. And she'd tried so hard to concentrate fully on it, and used the I Ching sticks as Lyra had instructed. 

_“It’s Dust.”_ As Mary packed up her things and headed back to her office, she remembered Marisa’s face flushing and her eyes sparkling at the mention of dark matter. It was as if all of life’s meaning had suddenly become clear to her in that moment, in realizing what Mary studied was the equivalent of Dust. 

What would Marisa think of the Cave? What did she know about dark matter and the particles she so desperately was trying to activate?

Mary’s mind wandered then, as it was wont to do. She wondered what it was the woman did. She said she was from London, which was either a lie or was _true_ but perhaps not the London Mary knew. If she understood Dust, then she must understand experimental theology, what Lyra said was “physics” in her world. But the Magisterium wouldn’t let them study Dust, which either meant Marisa was a rogue researcher or, maybe—probably?—an agent of this Magisterium. 

It was really puzzling, and unsettling in a way Mary couldn’t quite determine. Yet at the same time, it intrigued her.

When Mary reached her office again, she was met with yet another surprise: a man with an overcoat and a moustache waiting for her. 

“Hello,” she said, coming to a tottering stop.

“Hello,” he drawled in return, narrowing his eyes at her. “I’m DI Waters.”

_Uh-oh._ Mary tried very hard to hide what she knew was probably an alarmed, thoughtful look that was spreading across her face. Police investigators didn't appear for any old reason. The government was pretty loose about her work, and had even funded part of it, so she knew this had to be about something else—most likely connected to all of the strange, strange things happening to her. Mary smiled at him, which was perhaps a bit too dreamy a response than was warranted at the occasion of meeting a police officer. Nonetheless, it was better than her _actual_ reaction, which blurred the lines of suspicion, fear, and irritation. 

“I’m interested in a visitor you had yesterday.”

_Lyra._

Oh, all these people seemed to be looking for Lyra! Mary was miffed as she thought back to the proud, stubborn girl in her blue outfit with her strange device that told her the truth and made the Cave communicate with her. There was something off about her, no doubt, but it was nothing _criminal._ That Mary was quite sure of, in a world where everything else lacked certainty. What was it about Lyra that made her the target of so many investigations? What was she involved in?

And yet, she was coming back today, to further talk with Mary…

She’d escaped as best she could but ran into Lyra in the elevator anyway.

“Mary!” the girl let out, face bright and cheery.

_She has no idea,_ Mary thought as she urged Lyra into the elevator, checking behind her shoulder before closing the door. _No idea at all._

“You have to go,” she told her, going back and forth with the girl and growing increasingly nervous and anxious for her to get up and leave. It wouldn’t be long until DI Waters found them, and then who knew what would happen. The girl resisted slightly, asking what was going on, but they didn’t have _time_ for this.

“Lyra, are you in trouble?” she finally asked. “Do you need help? Where are your parents? Where’s—how about your mother?”

Lyra’s eyes widened at the mention of her mother. That was promising, but just as she was about to open her mouth to respond, the door opened to reveal DI Waters.

“Oh,” Mary puffed. She felt her heart nearly beat itself out of her chest as she looked from Lyra to the police officer and then gripped Lyra's shoulder. “Sorry, I was just, uh…”

It was a disaster. She’d managed to help Lyra get away (and in so doing _embedding and aiding a wanted fugitive, maybe!)_ , but it hardly felt like enough. Back at her office now, Mary paced along the narrow length from the door to the window, pondering her next move.

She could do nothing. That was the easiest thing to do, she supposed. She could pretend she didn’t know anything and hadn’t seen anything. She could forget Lyra had ever come along and continue on with her work, which would necessarily be tainted and influenced by her anyway. But she didn't have to do anything further.

Of course, Mary couldn't do that. She was too involved in... _whatever_ it was she was involved in now. She wouldn't be able to sleep knowing she abandoned a child in need who also very much seemed important. That left her with a second option: continue her work with the machine and try and learn how Lyra is doing. If she could just fix her code and rewire the input and output mechanisms, then she could do it. And she could ask it questions in the way Lyra did with her little machine. She would learn more about her and have a better read on the situation.

There was a third option, however. Biting her lip, Mary looked down at her forearm. The ink was still there, glittering at her. Daring her. _Taunting_ her _._ She could see if Lyra’s mother might know anything, or if she could help her determine the severity of the danger Lyra was in. It would perhaps be the most immediate thing she could do, since she couldn’t tell how long it’d take her to rig the machine.

Was that why she wanted to call Marisa, or was it because, for some strange reason, she simply wanted to see the woman again…? Could both of those things be true at the same time? 

“Hello?” said a voice on the other end of the phone—low, light, and melodious.

“Hi,” said Mary. This was it. There was no going back now. “Marisa?”

“Dr. Malone.” Marisa’s voice was instantly warm and smooth. “It’s so good to hear from you.”

Mary was never good with smalltalk and conversations. She was a scientist. She was good at reading books and solving equations and figuring things out after everyone else had long given up. She thus felt herself start to panic a little at the social delicacy required in this situation, which didn’t pair well with the sheer chaos swirling all around her. She hardly knew what she was doing, and why calling Marisa was among the first things she wanted to do upon seeing Lyra escape police custody. 

“You told me to call you if I heard anything about Lyra—”

“Did you see her?” The woman's voice was sharp then. Hungry. Mary didn’t like that, and felt her already-dry throat start to feel extra scratchy.

Lyra was in trouble and she needed help. That much was quite clear. Mary still didn’t know if she was running _to_ or _from_ this woman, or if, in fact, Marisa was her actual mother. She thought so, as the looks between them were similar enough and Mary just inherently trusted that to be the truth for some reason. But just because Marisa was Lyra's mother didn't necessarily mean she was the person who could best shield her from danger, or that her mother wasn't the one _hurting_ her. So Mary decided to play it as neutrally as she possibly could.

“I haven’t, but a police officer came by today asking about her, too."

"He did? When?" 

"Just a few minutes ago.”

“Who was he?” Marisa’s tone was commanding. It sounded like she was very used to bossing people about and demanding answers to her questions.

“Uh, DI Waters,” Mary answered. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“What did he look like?”

“He was, I don’t know, a...regular looking white man? Tall, sunglasses, a moustache.”

Marisa paused on the other end of the phone. Mary could hear her breathing pick up, and got the impression that this woman was angry. Very, very angry. It was unsettling, even just on the phone. 

There was something _quite_ strange and serious going on. In that moment, Mary felt suddenly small and overwhelmed by the understanding that she was caught up in some kind of huge, terribly complicated mess. 

“He just left,” Mary continued after more painful silence, “and, I…and I just thought you should know.”

It was a lame way to end it, really. In a stray part of her mind, Mary had imagined that she could sound more impressive and coherent than that. She wanted to be smooth in the way Marisa seemed to be smooth. She wanted to be confident now in the face of danger, and not completely and utterly falling apart in the way she felt that she was.

In so many ways, Mary wanted to be so much more than she was, but she had to honor her current lived reality. She was simply doing the best she could under this literal duress. 

“Can I come over?” Marisa's voice was low again, and tinged with something Mary couldn’t quite identify.

“T-to the office?” Mary asked. It seemed like an odd request, really, but Mary couldn’t help but feel receptive to the thought anyway.

“Yes. I can be there in fifteen minutes. Does that work for you?”

"Sure. Okay." 

"Thank you," Marisa breathed. Mary could hear the relief flood over the tiny speaker. "Thank you for calling me. I'll see you soon."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary asks Marisa what she knows, and debates how much she can actually trust her.

When Marisa knocked at the door, Mary was breathless. Actually breathless. She didn't know _why,_ really. She supposed it was because she didn't know what to expect from the woman, or what she was even doing inviting her over in the first place. It was strange, how the body reacted during moments of nervousness and anticipation. The psychologists spent a lot of time studying these matters, but there was still so much they didn't seem to truly understand about why people got so _nervous_ over things that seemed so silly to get nervous about, like answering the phone or waiting in line to pay a bill or opening the door to greet a beautiful woman from another world. 

Mary paused and allowed herself to calm down a moment, moving to smooth down her blazer. It was very wrinkled, she only just now noticed, and it had a certain… _scent_ to it. How long had she been wearing it, anyway? She couldn't remember, and she let out a great sigh before shaking her head and then finally opening the door. 

“Dr. Malone,” Marisa greeted, smiling gently at her—although it didn’t seem to actually reach her eyes. She was dressed differently than she was earlier in the morning. She wore a sharp, teal skirt suit with a matching toque hat and pair of heels. Mary again felt a certain 1940s vibe coming from the woman, whose makeup was done _so elegantly_ and _so precisely_ and who was just so utterly put-together in a way that Mary most evidently was _not_. It made her want to laugh, and it also made her feel self-conscious. Marisa's beauty in this way almost seemed wasted for someone as plain and out-of-order as Mary. 

_Not that she's wearing or doing any of this_ **_for_ ** _me,_ Mary quickly thought, _or for anyone! Of course not!_

Mary flushed, looking down at Marisa's shoes. She didn't know why she was thinking this, or what she was doing. 

Marisa cleared her throat, eyebrows slightly raised, and then Mary remembered herself. “Hello,” she offered, very much aware of how red her face must be. “It's good to—”

Marisa pushed her way into the office at that, smile gone and face set. Her shoulder brushed past Mary and her dark brown handbag hit against her, too. It was heavy but quite soft, as well as very oddly shaped. 

"What happened here?" 

Before Mary could even close and lock the door, Marisa was standing next to the pile of boxes that Lyra had thrown in the officer's way. The woman's eyes were narrowed as she examined them closely, as well as the papers scattered every which way. She bent down to take a closer look. 

_Damn it,_ Mary thought, biting back a groan as she shut the door and hastily turned the lock. _I should have cleared this all up before she got here. What was I thinking? I hope Lyra didn't leave anything behind..._

"Just some more mess," Mary tried to say smoothly, stepping closer and hiding her hands behind her back. She always fidgeted with her hands when she was lying, she'd noticed, so she needed to take especially proactive precautions now. "I'm awfully clumsy, I'm afraid, and I haven't gotten much sleep." 

"Hmm," Marisa mused, her eyes momentarily flicking over to Mary before glancing around the rest of the office. She was looking for something, Mary realized. Lyra, perhaps? As if Mary were hiding her under the desk? The thought was ridiculous, but Mary really did wonder as Marisa walked over and checked under the desk. The woman moved with a sort of suspicious desperation, as if anything at all were possible. 

"Are you alright?" Mary asked awkwardly then as Marisa continued to prowl around the office, clutching her handbag close to her as she peered at every corner. It was rather rude, really, since she'd let herself in and immediately started questioning her and pilfering through her belongings. But for some reason, Mary couldn't find the strength to actually _say_ that to her, even if she probably should. 

"No," said Marisa quietly, voice curt as she finally stopped moving and then turned around to look at Mary squarely in the face. Her eyes _burned_. "I'm distraught, Dr. Malone. My daughter is missing and the police are apparently out looking for her."

"You mean you didn't call the police, then?" Mary asked. It was a sensible question for someone in her position to ask, she supposed, if she didn't know the fuller story. She was fascinated to see how Marisa would react, and what she would do. 

"Of course I have," Marisa said quickly, not skipping a single beat, "but not the _Oxford_ police."

"What do you mean?" Mary pressed. She felt her mouth itch into a smile as she saw Marisa hesitate and her eyes narrow again. She didn't seem to know what to say or what to do, which was amusing but also disheartening as Mary wanted to get some answers from her. Just how much could she rely on this woman, who didn't seem to actually trust her? 

Neither of them trusted the other, which meant this wouldn't get very far. 

"Look, we don't need to worry about that now," Mary said quickly before Marisa could respond—or, rather, make up a lie about the situation. "I do have some questions myself, though, if you'd be so kind to answer them? I really want to help you, but I can't if I don't know what's going on." 

"Of course," said Marisa instantly, an easy smile spreading across her features once again. It was an intoxicating one that made Mary smile, too, even though she was working hard to stay in control. Marisa sat down in the armchair and folded her hands neatly in her lap, nodding to Mary respectfully. Her bag was on the ground again, just barely in Mary’s peripheral vision as she remained standing. She’d take any power she could get in this situation, she supposed.

"How did you know where to find me?" Mary started. 

"That's a complicated question," Marisa sighed, moving to adjust her hat. "I have… _people_ who seemed to suggest Lyra would be here."

“What people?" Mary asked, not able to help the urgency creeping into her voice. 

"Highly-ranked people," Marisa returned, pronouncing every syllable. 

"I can't help you if you keep doing this," Mary sighed, giving in to her frustration. Perhaps she'd been very sorely mistaken to call Marisa. The woman didn't seem likely to give her anything of use here about Lyra. She was keen for help yet tight-lipped in the process. It was insufferable. 

Again, Mary realized something big and strange and possibly quite dangerous was happening, and she was caught in the middle of it all for reasons she could only attempt to understand. 

"And I can't help _you_ if you don't tell me what actually happened."

Mary stopped at that, blinking very slowly. Had Mary said something to give herself away? She didn’t think so, yet Marisa was looking so severely at her right now that Mary very nearly balked.

“I know she was here,” Marisa continued, leaning forward and raking her eyes over Mary’s face. She looked smug now, and just as dangerous as she ever had. “I know you’ve been lying to me.”

Mary wondered how Marisa could possibly know, and who these "highly-ranked" people were. Maybe she was with the police after all, and was sent as a decoy. But, if she had been, then she would have known Mary didn't have much information at all. Or maybe she wasn’t on the same _side_ of the police and needed to find her own intel. There was too much that could be true. None of it yet made sense.

“Then why are you here?” 

“Because you’ve been seeing her, and I need to find her.”

“Then _talk_ to me, Marisa,” Mary insisted. She glared over at the woman herself now, feeling all of the irritation from their encounters start to boil up. “You can’t do anything to me. I’m a university employee and my funding is already out, so I’ve got nothing more to lose. But _you_ have something to lose, don’t you?” Marisa’s eyes flashed—a warning, Mary perceived. “I can feel your pain, Marisa. I know you're upset.”

“Of course I am!” the woman let out. “My daughter is in danger.”

“Then let me _help_ you!” Mary shot back. Both of them were breathing heavier now and glaring at one another. And from the corner of her eye, Mary thought she saw that damn bag _move,_ inching slightly to the left closer to Marisa. But she didn’t have time to worry about that at the moment. “We don’t have to be enemies here, Marisa.”

The woman said nothing as she continued to glower at her, blue eyes hard. 

“I can’t trust you,” Marisa finally said, voice calmer but still tense. “I can’t trust anyone.”

“And you think I can?” Mary laughed at that, genuinely laughed. Maybe it was the severe sleep-deprivation. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of this entire situation. Maybe it was her utter failure in the lab and the fact they were kicking her out in a few days. “My entire life has turned upside down, Marisa. Nothing makes sense, and I can hardly stay awake long enough to make a proper decision. You’re going to have to give me more than this if you want my help. And if you’re just going to sit here and threaten me or degrade me, then you may as well leave.”

It was bolder than she’d intended to be, and it shocked her, but it worked. Marisa continued gazing at her. Mary could see her mind whirling to figure out what to take of Mary’s speech and how to respond to it. This would be it, if it were to happen. This was the moment.

Marisa stood up and seemed to gauge Mary then. Her eyes flicked across Mary’s face and then flittered down across her body and then back up again. It was done very calmly in a sort of detached, critical manner, as a grandmother might closely inspect a seldom-seen grandchild. Mary still felt herself blush as she simply stood there, basking in this woman’s harsh examination of her.

“I’m going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t,” Marisa said after what felt like several minutes. She came over to Mary so that they were standing very, very close. From the light of the window, Mary saw the woman’s eyes were even bluer than she remembered. They were light and translucent, almost. Just a smidge darker than her own. 

_Now we’re getting somewhere,_ Mary thought, gulping before nodding her head. "I’m listening.”

“We’re not from here, Lyra and I,” Marisa began. “From this world.”

“From this world?” Mary repeated. _Do just what you did with Lyra,_ she told herself. _Say exactly what you said to Lyra._ “You mean, this city?”

“World,” Marisa corrected, letting out a heavy, pretty sigh. She shifted her head and looked dramatically out the window, her eyes glistening. Mary got the impression that she was putting on an act now, as dreamy and grandiose as she was behaving. And it was an act most different than how she talked about Lyra. There wasn't any fear or quiet desperation here. This was polished manipulation. 

"World," Mary said back, stepping away but not letting the woman out of her sight.

"I know I sound literally insane," Marisa insisted with what was probably very well-practiced modesty, "but I'm telling the truth." 

"I believe you." Of course Mary did. Lyra had already told her everything, so none of this was new to her. She'd had at least _some_ advanced knowledge of this phenomenon, even if the advanced knowledge itself had been rash and thrown at her. And despite the walls Marisa had put up during all of their encounters, Mary could tell when she was being genuine, even when she was putting on a show as she was now. Marisa blinked at her in surprise and, beneath that, relief. It was like she was expecting a harder sell and felt wary of Mary’s affirmation.

“You do?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

“Why not?” Mary laughed again. She really had nothing to lose now. “I’ve seen my fair share of strange things in the past twenty-four hours, so this is hardly anything I can’t handle. You're from another world? Fine. Tell me about it.”

Marisa’s mouth twisted at that, and Mary waited for it: a barrage of questions about what she’d seen and what she meant. She could tell the woman _wanted_ to ask, for the way her body leaned forward and her eyes swiveled back-and-forth quickly in thought. But she held her tongue and proceeded to chat with Mary about where she was from and, vaguely, who Lyra was and what kind of trouble she was in. She conveniently left out mention of the alethiometer and Dust, Mary noticed. But she did more or less offer something Mary needed to hear: no one could be trusted. _No one._

_Not even Marisa?_ Mary pondered. _Perhaps_ **_especially_ ** _not Marisa._

“So you see," Marisa was concluding, "Lyra is in danger back in our world before she found her way into this one. Only now, there are people looking for her here, too. And not all of them are good.”

"What about you?" Mary dared to ask. "Are you one of the _good_ ones?" 

Thick tension filled the air, which Mary welcomed with a shy curiosity. She saw Marisa stiffen slightly at the question and noted how her shoulders tensed and her fists clenched. Her eyes were hard again, and very, very cold. She reminded Mary of a wolf examining its prey, in a sense, deciding how to react and what move to make. Marisa must not like to be directly challenged.

"I want to keep her safe,” Marisa said then after several long moments. She continued to stare at Mary, her eyes searching now. "I've done my share of bad things. I’ve made plenty of mistakes. But she's my _daughter."_ Marisa paused again, her face full of unabashed _feeling_. "So I need to find her."

_She's so sad,_ Mary couldn't help but feel, _and hurt. She's hurting._ She wasn't faking this. It was a thing that, arguably, couldn't be faked. 

“I know,” Mary said to her. She didn’t know what else to say, really. She’d gotten an answer she didn’t really want to get: Marisa was genuinely concerned about her daughter, but there was something about her that she just didn’t trust. And, most of all, Mary didn't know if Lyra _wanted_ to be found by her mother. 

“So how shall we proceed?” Marisa asked. In that moment, she took back over control as her eyes glittered at her. “Will you tell me where Lyra is?”

“Maybe,” Mary offered, watching her closely.

“Oh, but we’ve become such good friends,” Marisa teased, stepping closer to her again. Her perfume wafted its way up to Mary’s nostrils with the action. “You can see that I mean her no harm, can’t you?”

“Our intentions only mean so much, though,” Mary said sadly, turning to return the woman’s gaze. She cut through the manicured confidence and arrogance to see the sliver of doubt nestled in Marisa. “But you already know that, because you’ve already hurt her when you didn’t mean to. Haven’t you?”

Marisa’s face fell, and her eyes searched Mary’s as if she were deciding how to next attack her. 

“Regardless of what you think, we’re both on the same side here,” Mary finally sighed, moving away and breaking the contact. “And if you can prove yourself trustworthy, I can try my best to help you. I believe I might have something that neither you nor your _people_ do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for episode 5 that I can't stand it...! Love what the show is doing with all of these characters, who I borrow every now and again for these stories :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary gets to see another side of Marisa, and not one she expects.

“If you and I are going to be working together,” Marisa said, “then there’s probably something else you should know about me.”

Mary watched carefully as the woman went back over to the armchair, where she crouched down next to her bag. There was still something  _ off  _ about that damn bag. Mary didn't trust it. Something just didn’t seem right. So she was intrigued as Marisa moved to unzip it. She was apprehensive, too, as she wasn’t quite sure about that  _ look _ Marisa was giving her.

"Don't be frightened now," she said gently. Marisa paused and waited pointedly for a response. Mary nodded, half-fearing the woman was going to pull out a  _ gun _ or something on her. But on the contrary, the strangest thing happened: a monkey's head popped out of the bag, blinking slowly up at her. 

If it weren't all so very serious, it would be quite comical. Mary would be able to throw her head back and  _ cackle  _ at this woman and a literal  _ monkey  _ in her handbag. She'd never seen something quite so cartoonish, where surprises popped up out of the blue when you least expected them. It was funny, but again it wasn't because Marisa was quite  _ humorless  _ and looking at her  _ so intently  _ that Mary had no choice but to simply stare blankly at her. 

"This is my daemon," Marisa said then, eyes flickering up and down Mary carefully as she said it. 

"Your demon?" Mary repeated. Was she mad? Did she steal some poor monkey, convinced it was a tortured soul possessed by a monster? Was she some kind of religious zealot driven to the brink of disaster? 

"My  _ daemon _ ," Marisa emphasized, pronouncing the word slightly differently than Mary had. "Not the demons of your world and your church. A daemon is a living creature and is the manifestation of one's soul." 

"I can't." 

Mary sank back down into the nearest armchair at that, putting a hand on her temple. Manifestation of one's soul. Their  _ soul.  _ And an animal manifestation at that. She'd figured that her world and Marisa's world were different, given the way both she and Lyra reacted to the modern amenities around them, but  _ this  _ different? With literal, walking, breathing, moving  _ souls _ ?

She had to be dreaming. There was no way this could actually be real. She'd fallen asleep in front of the Cave again. 

"I know this is difficult for you to understand," Marisa said gently, taking a step forward. 

"No, you don't," Mary sighed, closing her eyes.  _ Wake up, wake up.  _

"But I do," Marisa insisted. Mary felt the woman’s presence just in front of her now. "It's as strange for me to see you  _ without  _ a daemon as it is for you to see me  _ with  _ one."

"I just don't...Daemon?  _ Manifestation of one's soul?"  _

"Yes." Marisa was even closer, and Mary opened her eyes to look at her full in the face. "Your soul is inside of you, and mine walks beside me."

"Soul," Mary laughed, and at Marisa's puzzled glance, she added: "I was a nun, you know. Thought I'd left all this talk of souls behind me."

Marisa raised her eyebrows at that. "A nun?"

"Yeah," Mary sighed, closing her eyes again and sitting back, trying to relax her mind. She was aware of Marisa still standing very close to her, which didn’t help settle her down. "Devotion to God, living a life of humble prayer. Except my convent was more relaxed than others." 

"What happened?"

"Well, I wanted to get my doctorate, for one, and I did…but education has a way of changing your thinking, sometimes in ways you don't expect."

Marisa was quiet at that. Mary opened one eye to see her staring intensely at her, blue depths lit with some kind of frustrated interest that Mary didn't quite know how to decipher. 

"They wouldn't let me get a doctorate in my world," Marisa offered after a few moments. 

"No?" Mary opened both eyes and sat up, considering Marisa again. She was very intelligent, Mary could tell. She just had that aura about her, as well as a thoughtful glance and measured interactions. It was thus surprising for her not to be as well-educated and well-learned as Mary had admittedly been assuming. 

"Only under  _ special circumstances  _ can women continue on," Marisa drawled, her eyes hardening now. “I could read, and study, but never earn anything. That was for the men.”

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Mary said, and she was. "I think education, even at the highest level, is a public good and everyone should be able to pursue it."

That surprised Marisa, it seemed. She simply stared down at Mary, her eyes burning into hers as if she had even more questions and thoughts about Mary's world and education and Dust and whatever else. But she stopped herself. 

"So your education made you leave the church?" Marisa pressed instead, voice calm but eyes still so fiercely curious.

"Partially," said Mary, and now she felt herself blush again as she remembered who it was she was talking to. She almost felt embarrassed. "I'm also not, uh, exactly  _ fond  _ of men, which is supposedly a sin."

Marisa's eyes widened and then she smiled—genuinely smiled, it seemed, which made Mary's face blush even redder. The woman looked so pleased and so happy that it was almost angelic. It seemed so natural and effortless. Therefore, it had to be dangerous. Right?

"The church in my world said I committed a sin, too, when I had an affair and cheated on my husband."

If Mary was expecting something, it  _ certainly  _ wasn’t that. 

"Well, what do you know," Mary said, her heart pounding just a little bit faster now as she found herself returning the smile and lost in the other woman's eyes. "Quite a pair of sinners we are."

The atmosphere lightened considerably after that. It was funny how sharing personal details about each other’s lives could put them more at ease, especially when it was over something they both seemed to dislike. The psychologists again had so much to say about this kind of thing, including the “negativity and closeness effect." Both Marisa and Mary were seated in the armchairs as Marisa explained more about what daemons were like and how they functioned. Mary eventually turned her attention over to the monkey itself as they talked. He was out of the bag now and sitting mildly next to it. His fur was golden and shined like the sun through the filtered light of the window. His paws and muzzle were stained black and his tail was curled neatly around himself, almost like a cat. Most of all, though, Mary looked into his eyes and saw such startling  _ intelligence  _ glisten back at her. 

"It's…intelligent?" she blurted out lamely, eyes still locked with the monkey's. 

"He is, yes," said Marisa. Her voice was less warm now, Mary noticed, as she glanced at him. "He and I are one. We share thoughts, share pain, share intelligence."

"What's your name?" Mary called out to the monkey, attempting to do  _ something  _ that would make sense, but the creature merely narrowed his eyes and then let out a short hiss. Mary balked away from him.

"He doesn't talk, and he won’t hurt you," Marisa sighed, a definite edge to her voice now as she tossed him a glare. "Others talk and can interact with people, but not him. And he doesn't have a name."

That was strange. Mary admittedly knew hardly anything at all about these people and their customs, but that would be odd anywhere, wouldn't it? It all felt so impersonal, the way the monkey looked up at Marisa and she flat-out ignored him. Tension resurfaced, but this time it was between Marisa and the  _ monkey.  _ Mary could feel it quite acutely, and she vaguely wondered if this was a sign of there being something very, very wrong with Marisa.

Indeed, as Mary looked back over at Marisa, whose eyes were still cool and calm yet flecked with a certain  _ disdain,  _ she got the impression that Marisa wasn't typical. Nothing about her struck Mary as ordinary, or casual, or  _ normal.  _ Lyra seemed more representative for that, although she too had a presence of greatness about her. Lyra and her mother, it seemed, were exceptions to the rule. And if Mary were less sleep deprived and more in control of herself, she might note that and proceed with even more extreme caution. 

“Well,” said Marisa, clearing her throat and turning her attention back to Mary, “what shall we do now?”

Mary wondered how, exactly, it happened so that it was up to  _ her _ to entertain Marisa, and to lead the conversation.  _ Marisa  _ was the one who'd shown up at Mary's door, after all, and who seemed to need information that Mary had. Looking at her watch, Mary saw it was approaching noon now, and she was quite hungry. And tired. And just so very done with this entire day.

“I, uh, really need lunch,” Mary said slowly, shifting her eyes to look at Marisa. The woman was still gazing at her calmly, although she thought she saw something of a sparkle in her eye. “And then I really need to work on something.”

“What are you working on?” Marisa asked her, voice bright. “Unless you still don’t find me trustworthy enough yet.” Her voice pouted a bit with that last part, and her forehead creased with concern. It was cute, really. She was a grown woman, but she looked youthful and amused and so strikingly appealing in a strange, intoxicating way.

“I hardly know you,” Mary said truthfully, “and you’re apparently in trouble with people from your world, and possibly this one. I realize I don’t actually know, do I?”

“How about a lunch date, then?” Marisa asked. Mary’s heart fluttered a bit at the word. “We can talk more about our worlds, and perhaps I can prove myself not only trustworthy but also  _ useful  _ to you.”

This wasn’t good. Looking at Marisa and the way her eyes twinkled with amusement and excitement, Mary knew this wasn’t good. Marisa was dangerous. She was unpredictable. She was selfish. And Mary  _ still  _ couldn’t determine if she was good or bad for Lyra, and what Lyra herself even wanted. But Marisa was here, and arguably, it’d be hard to get rid of her now that she’d revealed so much about herself to Mary. In some ways, Mary realized she was a liability, and was perhaps not easily able to escape. At the same time, she didn’t really mind.

“Fine,” Mary simply sighed, rolling her eyes as Marisa smiled and gave a small clap before going back over to her bag.

“In you go,” she sang to her monkey, who, looking from Marisa to Mary and then back again, let out a growl and then climbed back into the bag, his tail thrashing wildly. “Where to now, Doctor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll say it again: I am so excited about season 2 episode 5 that I can barely stand it! I have no idea what is going to happen, and I can only hope and trust that it'll be absolutely great. And until then (and after), we have this fic :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Marisa share lunch and then square off, yet again.

“A _food truck?_ Really?”

Mary and Marisa were just off campus at one of the visiting food trucks, standing in front of the chalkboard menu with its tidy handwriting and vivid illustrations. Marisa seemed offended by it when they’d first walked over to it, asking why there was a supply truck covered in drawings parked in the middle of the sidewalk. After Mary explained what it was and how it functioned, Marisa still wasn’t pleased, asking if there was literally _any other place_ they could go in order to have a _proper meal._ There really wasn’t, if Mary wanted to head back to the lab soon. She didn't have time to dawdle. This wasn't a _social_ outing but one of necessity. Marisa's attitude thus annoyed her. 

“You _are_ hungry, aren't you?” Mary asked, examining the different kinds of burgers available today. This particular truck came every Tuesday and liked to offer new options. “Quick and efficient. Perfect for the scientist’s busy life, and for an empty stomach.”

Mary ate most of her meals on the go like this, either grabbing a bite from one of these trucks or from a food court as well as bringing something from home. She hadn’t brought anything from home for today (and hadn’t even _been_ home for...a day and a half? Longer? She couldn’t remember), so this was her only option. She could understand Marisa’s _expectation_ and _preference_ to sit down at a real restaurant, but there really wasn’t time for that. There never was.

“Is this where you take all of your dates, Dr. Malone?” Marisa’s voice was light as she considered the menu from the corner of her eye. There was the hint of a laugh tucked in her expression as she stood there calmly, holding her bag close to her and pretending not to notice as Mary’s face reddened. It was weird now that Mary knew what was in that bag. She couldn’t think of it the same and found her gaze flickering over to it.

“Can he...breathe in there?” Mary muttered, shifting closer so that Marisa could hear her. She had wondered, vaguely during their chat, about the nature of daemons. They were corporeal beings, Mary could conclude, but Marisa had said they didn’t need to eat and that they were nourished by other means. But they’d still need to _breathe,_ wouldn’t they? If they were living, moving, existing creatures? What did and didn't they need? 

“Hmm?” Marisa let out, still eying the menu.

“The monk—your daem—oh, damn, they both sound bad…”

“He’s fine,” Marisa said dismissively. She spared Mary one glance before looking back at the menu again. “Don’t ruin our date talking about him.”

“Will you _stop_ saying that?” Mary exclaimed, blushing again as she looked around them. She knew what the woman was doing. Mary recognized those around her who were well-versed in using their sex appeal for their own personal gain (and entertainment, as seemed the case here). That was the definition of Marisa with her fluttering eyelashes and parted mouth and breathy murmurs. Or, at least, the definition she wished to _set_ for herself when the time suited her, as Mary had seen her behaving perfectly non-sultry when discussing their education and matters of research. She got the sense that Marisa created different façades of herself depending on the situation, and that she seldom was able to _not_ forefront the one that best illustrated her sexual appeal. That was sad, really, and Mary wondered what it must be like to live in the kind of world Marisa described. She wondered how Marisa felt about it, how she _really_ felt about it. She wondered if she could help, somehow, even though that didn’t really make any sense at all.

Marisa was starting to attract an unusual amount of attention, being dressed as if she were in a movie from sixty years ago (and being truly quite beautiful). It was impossible for people not to notice her, standing there elegantly in her blue skirt suit and heels. Some of the young college men were stopping to gawk at her, their eyes widening and then hurriedly looking away again as they moved by. This wasn’t exactly the kind of “staying low” Mary had promised to do after first encountering Lyra. 

Something bad was bound to come from this. Mary increasingly wondered what the _hell_ she was doing. This wasn't good at all. 

“Why?” Marisa said, cutting through Mary’s thoughts and bringing her back to her conversation. “Am I not _good_ enough for you?”

“You’re being insufferable,” Mary groaned, “and you seem to really enjoy flattering yourself.”

“Oh, no,” said Marisa sweetly, blue eyes fully trained on Mary as her lips spread into a wide, ravenous smile. “ _You_ should be the one who’s flattered. I’m quite the catch, you know.”

Mary left her standing there after her order was up, speeding back to the office and half-hoping Marisa wouldn’t follow her back. But she did, of course, and thus appeared to have the means to look after herself as well the desire to continue her parlance with Mary. _Just_ her luck. When Marisa was safely back in the room, the golden monkey weaseled his way out from the bag and Marisa sat herself down across from Mary in the little round table she had in the corner of the office.

"I found my way back just fine, thank you," said Marisa brightly when Mary didn't say anything to her. "You needn't have waited for me even if you wanted to."

"Huh," Mary simply let out, keeping her eyes down. She was starting to feel guilty. Despite all the games Marisa was playing, Mary probably shouldn't have left her there. It wasn't the right thing to do. But Marisa was just being _too much._ Mary felt awkward, as always. But embarrassingly so now.

“This is nice,” Marisa continued, spreading out her burger and fries neatly on a paper plate in front of her. She smiled down at them but looked like she'd rather be eating literally _anything_ else. Mary briefly wondered if they had fast food in Marisa's world. “Do you often dine in your office like this, Dr. Malone?”

“Mhmm,” Mary said as she bit into her burger. She’d ordered a bacon cheddar ranch one today. The flavors went well together.

“Do you dine alone?”

“Usually.”

“Then how nice it must be, to have some company for a change.”

Mary didn't want to talk, really, as she was _starving,_ but Marisa seemed to prefer it. She'd picked back up on their conversation from earlier, discussing education. She was quite talkative, Mary noticed, which was something she wouldn’t have initially guessed during their first few interactions.

"I was a member at St. Sophia's College," the woman said between bites of her burger, which she seemed to slowly begin enjoying. She’d already told Mary all about her upbringing in Geneva and her time spent in posh French boarding schools. "Located here in Oxford—or, well, _my Oxford._ It doesn’t seem that you have a St. Sophia’s here, do you? _"_

“No,” said Mary, and that intrigued her. In some ways their worlds completely diverged, like with daemons and souls, and in others they seemed similar, like their accents, their major cities and societal organization, and so forth. But even _then_ there seemed to be major differences, including the types of colleges in the University of Oxford system. “What’s its speciality?”

“Women,” Marisa said immediately, and then she laughed as Mary’s eyes widened and then crinkled into laughter, too. She was funny, Mary almost hated to admit, with her one-liners and the way her face practically danced in amusement during conversation. “It was the first college to open admissions to women, so naturally I went there to study what I was allowed to. Even though I was _really_ fit to study experimental theology at Jordan College with all the arrogant old men, who knew half as much as me and still received their doctorates.”

“Jordan,” Mary repeated, remembering something Lyra had said to her. _Jordan is gone,_ the girl had muttered despairingly. At first she’d thought the girl had meant her friend, but if it was a _college,_ and if her father and others had something to do with it... “That’s where—oh.”

Marisa’s eyes flashed at her then, previously humored and amused and now utterly dark as they practically scorched into her. The mood in the room shifted immediately. “That’s where what?”

“Nothing,” said Mary, looking down at her plate and wishing she hadn’t said anything.

“Something...Lyra mentioned?” Mary looked up, and Marisa was staring at her so intently that she couldn’t look away. It was like a weird trap of sorts that Mary couldn’t even begin to understand.

“Only in passing,” Mary said very, very carefully, breaking the contact by shoving the straw of her cola back in her mouth. She didn’t like the atmosphere in the room now. It reminded her of the one she’d felt around that police officer: suspicious and unforgiving. Everything had been so nice, and so light, until suddenly it wasn’t. Again, Mary had to wonder how it was that Marisa could jump so immediately from one feel to another.

“What else did she say?” Marisa said each word slowly and stuffily, as if she were running one of those archaic elocution lessons. Her voice was sharp, too. As sharp as it had been all day.

“Nothing,” said Mary, feeling slightly panicked now. Marisa had known Lyra had come to see her, but perhaps she didn’t know the extent that they’d talked, and that Lyra had been in the Cave, and had seen her actually _twice._ Or maybe she had been trying to determine that, and here Mary was, offering the information to her entirely without even realizing it. 

She had to think fast here about how to proceed. What was the danger? What was the risk? How sincere was this woman in her declaration of wanting to keep Lyra safe? 

“Did she say anything about _me_?”

“No.” Marisa frowned now as Mary cleared her throat and went back to her fries, dipping them in the catsup in front of her. “Nothing at all. She mentioned a father killing a certain friend of hers, and that was enough for me to know that something completely horrible is going on here.”

Perhaps that was too much, both the statement and Mary’s tone of self-righteousness. The monkey growled and Marisa pushed her seat back to stand up, coming closer to Mary and leaning against the table. Her presence felt _charged_ somehow, like the particles in the lab.

“You’ll tell me everything that transpired between the two of you,” Marisa said quietly. “Every word, every look. Everything.”

“I won’t.” Marisa’s eyes flashed, and the monkey jumped up onto the table now, baring his white, long fangs at her. Mary shrank back a little bit, but then stopped as she saw the monkey made no move to actually approach her. It looked like he _wanted_ to but like he somehow couldn’t, as if something was holding him back, whether it was Marisa or something else entirely.

“Just tell me what you want, Marisa,” Mary finally sighed, breaking their contact to pick her burger back up. She knew her projected calmness and indifference was frustrating to Marisa as the woman let out a little puff and jerked her head toward the monkey, leaving him to glare at her once more before climbing down. “We’ve been at this for hours and I’m very, very tired and have much to do. As I said, I’d like to help you with Lyra if I can because actually I am very worried about her, but I’m frankly still worried about _you_ in particular and how you might harm her.”

“I’d never harm her,” Marisa said quickly, her eyes hardening. “I’ve saved her, twice already. She doesn’t even realize the extent to which I’ve gone to save her.”

“And why is that? Because you’ve driven her away with the best of your charm and charisma?”

“You’d be wise to watch yourself,” Marisa snarled at her, stepping even closer now. She was so close. Mary could see her own reflection in the other woman’s eyes as well as _feel_ the force of her anger. “I don’t like being tested.”

“Well, nor do I,” said Mary, glaring back. “So answer my question or get out. What do you want from me?”

“I want to use your machine,” Marisa said plainly in response, straightening her shoulders so that she was standing at her full height and glowering down at Mary. “I want to use it to find Lyra and keep her safe. I don’t think anyone else here would actually be good to her, except for you. So I want to find her and take her home."

That bit about being good to Lyra touched Mary, even as she was still almost shaking with a strangled sort of rage and frustration that had been penting up all day with this woman, as well as cold surprise. How did Marisa know about her machine? Just who had she been talking to? Apparently Mary had passed the snuff test of acceptable allies for Marisa (or she was just saying that), but she was still acting entirely out of line here. _She_ barged in unannounced to question Mary about Lyra. _She_ came back at Mary’s initial, hesitant invitation and now refused to leave. _She_ wanted access to a machine and to science that frankly she nor anyone else deserved.

Marisa wanted everything but offered nothing in return, save for sparkling eyes and well-timed smiles. Again, it was _insufferable,_ as much as it was still somehow so appealing despite Mary’s best efforts to actively repel it.

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Mary replied, leaning back in own chair and closing her eyes.

“I can assure you I’ll—”

“Because I don’t have it working yet.”

At this Marisa paused. Mary opened her eyes again to see the woman staring at her intently, eyes flickering over her face and mouth set in a twitching sort of frown. “You don’t?”

“Nope,” Mary answered, smiling in spite of herself. Part of her enjoyed seeing Marisa realize she wasn’t right and that she couldn’t get what she wanted. “That’s what I’ve been working on all this time. I don’t know what you heard or who even told you about it, but it’s not working. And trust me, I wished it _was._ But it isn't right now.”

“Show me, then,” Marisa said—or, rather, _commanded._ Mary again got the impression that Marisa was very used to being in charge and bossing around literally everyone in front of her. “Let me see it.”

“I’m no good right now in this state, unfortunately,” Mary said instead, allowing herself to actually yawn as she had been all damn day. “I need rest.”

“Rest later,” Marisa insisted.

“ _No.”_ The two were scowling at each other now, with the golden monkey doing the same. They’d come a long way from when they’d first met, but the two were still so stubborn. “I’m the only one who knows how the machinery works, so you need me to be at my best. I need to go home and sleep for a bit.”

“Fine,” said Marisa slowly, the word stretching out. “We’ll go to your house first, then.”

“We’ll—what?”

“Oh, yes, Dr. Malone,” Marisa smirked, her eyes again so incredibly bright and adventurous as she smiled wide. “You’re stuck with me now, so if you’d like to go home, then you're taking me home with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so FLOORED by season 2!! No spoilers, but if you're this invested in my story, then you probably already know of two certain characters meeting in episode 5 :D I a) didn't know they would meet when I first started writing this story, and b) didn't know they were going to say that the Magisterium didn't allow women to get doctorates, which makes me so incredibly sad (but not surprised) on Marisa's behalf. 
> 
> Anyway, the show is moving in its own direction and so are we here. Hope you enjoyed, and would love to hear what you think :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of Marisa hanging with Mary at her house, in which Mary just wants to get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I split this chapter into two (for now) parts as it was getting a bit long and I wanted to be sure to update in a timely manner!  
> 2) I don't know if Lyra's world has TV in the same way we do, but for some reason my headcanon says no, so here we are.

Mary had a small home that was only about a ten minute walk away from campus. It was nothing much, really, and she was horrible about keeping up the landscaping, but it was comfortable enough for her. She'd gotten it right after she started her research position. It was a “steal,” the real estate agent had told her. She practically only used it to sleep as she was at the office from early in the morning until after dark most days. But it was still a nice little place to return to after a hard day’s work.

And, apparently, when she was essentially being held hostage by a woman from another world.

The entire ordeal was very frustrating to Mary. She still didn’t entirely understand what had happened. Marisa came over after her call and they’d talked, they’d fought, they’d talked again, they’d gotten lunch, and then they fought yet again. It was exhausting. It was like playing a match of ping pong relentlessly back and forth. Mary could barely keep up, and she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She didn't feel  _ unsafe,  _ really, or  _ threatened,  _ but it was still uncomfortable and off-putting. 

"Who owns your house?" Marisa asked rather abruptly once they’d arrived. The woman was staring up at it curiously, her eyes half-shielded by that ridiculous blue hat she insisted that she keep wearing— _ "for the sun,”  _ as she had drawled. 

"I do," said Mary as she swung her backpack around and fiddled in the front pocket for her house keys. That was such a strange question to ask, really, and oddly personal.

"No, I mean, whose  _ name  _ is it under?” Marisa insisted. “If you're not married, then...your father's?"

"No," said Mary slowly, looking up to meet Marisa's expecting gaze. What was she getting at? "It's under my name. It's  _ my _ house, not my father's or anyone else's. I pay the mortgage every month." 

"Oh," the woman said quietly.

"Why?" Mary asked. She again had the sense that things operated very,  _ very  _ differently in Marisa's world in ways that frankly grew more and more concerning the more Mary heard. It sounded archaic. Barbaric, even.  _ Chauvinistic _ in a way Mary didn't actually know could exist anymore in this day and age. "Marisa…whose name is  _ your  _ house under?" 

"My late husband's," she answered at once, crooking her head slightly as if the question were obvious. 

"Even if…he died?" 

"It can't legally be  _ mine,  _ so of course, _ "  _ Marisa returned, brow furrowing.

"But why not?" Mary tilted her head back at her, eyes rounded with concern. This didn’t seem right, for women to be so entirely oppressed in the way Marisa seemed to be. Not allowed to earn a doctorate, not allowed to study at certain colleges, not even allowed to own their own  _ home... _ Marisa simply gazed back at her, seemingly lost in thought. She looked so sad, Mary realized, and if she weren't practically being held hostage by her  _ at her own home,  _ she might have asked her more about how she was feeling. 

“Hmm,” was all Marisa said in response, lowering her gaze and gesturing toward the house in a way that was irritatingly cordial and courteous as much as it was dominating.

"Well,” Mary sighed as she opened the door, "here we are. Not that I actually invited you here in the first place, though."

"How absolutely  _ charming."  _ Marisa’s voice was dry as she looked at Mary’s house. It was very cluttered, Mary realized. She hadn’t cleaned it properly in several days as she’d had some very late nights at the lab trying to secure funding. Some plates were still out on the table (gosh, Mary couldn’t even  _ remember  _ when she’d eaten there) and Mary had piles of books stacked in the oddest of places. Marisa picked a book up from a pile just at the foot of the stairs. She opened it and stared at the cover page intently.

“Quantum physics?” she said, voice intrigued.

“My field of study,” Mary grumbled, taking the book and throwing it back on the pile. “Don’t go through my stuff. Don’t you know that’s rude?”

“Of course I do,” said Marisa cheerily, laughing as Mary sneered. “Now, don’t be rude in return. Won’t you offer me some tea?”

Mary couldn’t believe she was doing this. She absolutely  _ seethed  _ as she went over to the kitchen and got out her kettle, aware of Marisa wandering around the dining room, the golden monkey already out of the bag and prowling about, too. None of this made sense, why Marisa was here and why she insisted on spending every moment with her. And Mary was so  _ tired _ —oh, she could barely even function at this point! She slapped the kettle onto the burner and then closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned against the kitchen island. She could fall asleep right there. The marble was cold and soothing against her elbows as she sank her head to rest onto them.

"Dr. Malone?" 

Mary jumped as she heard a voice whisper just in front of her ear. She shook her head slightly, taking in her surroundings. Her kitchen, her dining room, and her…companion of the day.  _ Marisa.  _ Blue eyes peering intently at hers.

"You're still here, then?" Mary sighed, rubbing her eyes. She knew you weren't supposed to do that. She read an alarming article once that noted how rubbing your eyes left dark circles and thinned the cornea, both of which were terrible and things she should actively avoid. But she couldn’t help it. She was so damn  _ tired! _

"And good thing I was, too. You almost burned down the house with that tea kettle."

Oh, just great. The kettle was steaming as Marisa must have put it on another burner. She had acquired two clean cups, Mary noticed, and held them out to Mary now, grinning.

"Shall we take our tea at the table, or in the sitting room?" Marisa asked softly after a few beats, as if this were  _ her house  _ and  _ she  _ were the thoughtful, diligent host.

What did Mary do to deserve this abject punishment? She couldn’t help the groan that escaped her as Marisa indicated she’d prefer the sitting room and then headed over there, her daemon trotting along in her wake. She watched her go and simply closed her eyes, not to sleep this time but to calm herself down. She counted to ten, and then twenty, and then more.

When Mary eventually simmered down and made her way over to the living room, Marisa was sitting curled up on the sofa with her monkey, eyes trained intently on the television. She certainly was making herself at home, Mary thought, noting her heels on the floor and her elbow resting comfortably on one of the throw pillows.

“Well, I’m going to rest now,” Mary blurted out, although warily. She didn’t  _ want  _ to leave Marisa unattended and unsupervised in her home. Mary would bet her life that Marisa would take the opportunity to snoop and spy as Mary slept. Not that Mary had any  _ secrets  _ looming around her house, of course, but it still wasn't right. This was her personal, private space. And she  _ hated  _ how boldly Marisa trampled all over it.

“What is this?” Marisa asked her, not listening. Her blue eyes widened as voices started shouting on the show.

“Oh, what rubbish did you turn on?” Mary asked, coming over to see what she was watching.  _ Doctors  _ was on, a medical drama that had been running for as long as Mary could remember. At the moment a group of doctors and medical personnel were raising their voices as a patient was crashing. 

“What’s happening?” Marisa asked. Her eyes were flitting from actor to actor, taking in their movements and their rushed speech as well as the unsettling background music. 

“I don’t know,” Mary sighed, pausing before taking a seat beside her on the sofa to take a closer look. “Looks like someone is having a medical complication.”

“And they  _ broadcast  _ that?” Marisa gasped, her eyebrows raised as she watched the nurses grab a crash cart and try to resuscitate the older woman on the bed.

“It’s not real, Marisa,” said Mary after a few more moments of watching her. She wasn’t upset or concerned, really, but pensive, as if she were trying to figure out what was happening. The monkey was absorbed, too, leaning over her shoulder on the back of the couch as he stared at the screen.

“It’s not?” she said, sparing a second from the screen to gaze at Mary inquisitively. She looked like a child—utterly enchanted.

“Don’t you have TV in your world?” Mary asked, shifting to cross her legs and face Marisa on the couch.

“No,” Marisa said, eyeing the screen again. “We have plays in the theatre, which are evidently performances, but this...seems so real.”

“I suppose it’s meant to be that way,” Mary mused, continuing to stare at Marisa. Just who was she, and what was her world like? How outdated and antiquated could it be that a  _ medical TV drama  _ was some kind of profound ordeal?

“Didn’t you say you were going to bed?” Marisa asked then, cutting through Mary’s thoughts. She was examining her calmly, completely abandoning the television now. She looked quite comfortable on Mary’s gray sofa. If someone were to walk in, they’d probably see not two practical strangers testing one another but two friends chumming in the living room.

“Oh, yeah,” said Mary, shifting again back to her bottom. She yawned at the mention of bed, as it seemed to remind her of how tired she truly was. Her little doze in the kitchen had only made it worse. “I really do need to do that.”

“You can rest here, if you’d like,” said Marisa, moving closer to the end of the couch so that Mary had more room. She tucked her legs neatly underneath her in a manner that showed off every curve of her legs and waist. Mary  _ tried  _ not to notice, but it didn't help that she was wearing  _ that outfit... _

“No, I should go lay down,” Mary said quickly.

“I wouldn’t bother you,” said Marisa, and she had a glimmer of amusement nestled in her eyes now as she patted the space just in front of her. “I could sing you a nursery rhyme. I’m told I have a soothing voice.”

“Oh, bug off,” said Mary, face flushing again as she scrambled up off the sofa.

“Sleep tight, Dr. Malone,” Marisa sang as she left, and Mary thought she heard a light chuckle and a soft animal grunt as she shut the door, determined to hopefully get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lighter chapter this time, which I had so much fun with! Hope you enjoyed :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Marisa hanging with Mary at her house, in which the unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself with this first part... :D

Mary awoke not of her own accord but to a hand shaking her shoulder. “Dr. Malone?”

Where was she? Who was calling her 'Dr. Malone' at this hour? Her brain was so  _ groggy  _ as she struggled to open her eyes. She’d been in a deep sleep, but still a hand came to shake her roughly awake, its pressure only increasing as Mary fought her own consciousness. She felt so very confused. Hungover, even, although she’s not sure that she’d actually ever  _ been  _ hungover before.

_ “Dr. Malone!”  _ The call was matched with an accompanying hiss, and it was then that Mary remembered: Marisa and her golden monkey daemon.

“Marisa?” Mary let out, finally opening her eyes and watching as her vision came into focus and she saw Marisa’s pale, slender face and bright blue eyes staring intently at her. She suddenly remembered more about what was happening: Marisa had invited herself into her house and was holding her there hostage. She wanted to use the Cave. She wanted to find Lyra. Something very strange and dangerous was going on that Mary was somehow now involved in. 

“There’s someone here," Marisa said, and then everything stopped. 

The room was utterly still as Mary's eyes widened.  _ Someone was here.  _ Her heart began to race, too, and adrenaline began to course through her veins. She was aware of the monkey perched carefully by the closed door, his ears trained toward it. Marisa was crouched next to the bed, her hat gone and her eyes trained carefully on the back of the monkey's skull. There was a dull sense of foreboding that gathered about each and every one of them in that moment. It made Mary shiver, as something was most definitely wrong in a way all of them could agree on.

"Who—" Mary began. 

_ "Hush."  _ Marisa was serious and focused in a way Mary hadn't seen during their time together. She wouldn't say that Marisa was  _ scared,  _ but rather than she was alarmed. Unsure. Cautious. Her eyes practically burned through that door as she waited for something to happen, as she was lost in her own thoughts. And that was enough for Mary not to question her now, but to listen carefully and stay as still as she possibly could.

It was after another few moments that Mary heard a noise from the kitchen and thus let out a loud gasp. 

"Shh," Marisa whispered, darting her hand out to cover Mary's mouth as she glared at the door. She also moved to sit on the very edge of the bed, poised to strike if need be. 

Mary shuddered at the contact of the cool hand against her skin but also at the growing fear of who was in her house. This was insane. Utterally and profoundly insane. Who would break into  _ her  _ house? She was, admittedly, one of the most boring people she knew. And she didn't make a lot of money, either, or have a flashy house and a luxurious lifestyle. Why would this be happening? Why was everything in her life completely falling apart over the past 36 hours? 

"He's coming over here," Marisa said, her voice barely audible. Mary wondered how she could possibly know that, but then she remembered humans and their daemons being linked and could see the monkey sniffing at the door. She then felt the terror of what that meant and locked eyes with Marisa. 

"We'll be alright," she said then, voice surprisingly warm as she pushed Mary back down onto the bed, all the while eying the door. "We'll pretend we're sleeping."

"But--" 

_ "Shh!"  _

In not even a second Marisa was on the other side of the bed and under the covers. She pulled the covers up over both of their heads and then turned onto her side to face Mary. They were lying very close together as Mary had a small bed. Their knees touched and their faces were only inches apart. The monkey, Mary assumed, must have hid under the frame, but all she could do was look into those glittering blue eyes as her heart pounded so hard she was sure it would give them away. 

"Don't move," Marisa breathed to her, eyes flickering momentarily toward the door as they heard another noise but then back to Mary almost immediately afterwards. "Shh. Just look at me."

So Mary did. As she heard footsteps outside her door from  _ literal burglars,  _ she gazed into Marisa's eyes. The woman was staring softly at her. Only a little light filtered in through the fabric of the bed cover, but it was enough for her to see the outline of her face. She also could  _ smell  _ and  _ sense  _ Marisa all around her. It was suffocating, almost, except that it wasn't. It was almost comforting in a way Mary couldn't possibly explain yet understood innately. 

The door opened then and as Mary's body stiffened, she felt Marisa's hand move to rest on the side of her cheek. With her eyes Marisa shushed her and grounded her. Her eyes held her there as the door opened and some strange, nebulous person was standing right there in front of them, listening. Mary's eyes widened again, if that were even possible at this point. She couldn't breathe; she'd taken in a deep, shuddering breath before the door had opened and she dared not release it now. 

Marisa smiled at her, eyes pausing on Mary's lips. She then flexed her fingers that were resting so lightly on her face and, for just one  _ tiny  _ moment, made Mary forget who and where she was. All she knew was the gentle caress of Marisa's hand on her skin, and those beautiful eyes. 

And then it was over, almost as swiftly as it happened. 

"He's leaving now," Marisa whispered, removing her hand but gesturing for Mary to stay put. Marisa remained where she was, too, and Mary could only assume the golden monkey must have slinked out from under the bed to check the door. "Not yet," Marisa cautioned, swiveling her eyes to look at Mary again. Mary was starting to shake now, from the adrenaline and the fright. She wanted to cry, too, as she could get quite emotional under stress like this. She cried at the lab sometimes, although she always hid it. There was nowhere to hide it now, though, and Mary saw something that almost resembled concern cross Marisa's features before it was gone and replaced with nothing but fierce attentiveness.

_ Relax,  _ Mary thought to herself, closing her eyes again and pretending for a moment none of this had happened. She was just having a bad dream. Marisa wasn't under the covers with her breathing almost directly on her with her tea-tinted breath. There was no monkey loitering by the door. There was not a burglar probably slipping out the back door by now. There was nothing but her and her bed and her work and her sleep. 

"I think he's gone now," Marisa said a minute later, and then it was  _ really  _ over. 

Marisa moved back the covers and Mary gulped in the fresh air that swept across her. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling as she simply breathed. In and out. Slowly and surely.

"Are you alright?" Marisa asked her hesitantly. She hadn't left the bed, Mary noticed, but she wasn’t in a state to really care. When Mary didn't answer, Marisa leaned forward to peer down at her. Her forearm just barely brushed against Mary’s shoulder.

"I think I'm in shock," Mary managed to blurt out, aware of Marisa breathing right next to her and feeling like she might hyperventilate even though they were out from under the covers now.

"You're okay," Marisa told her, and she was surprised to feel her hand rest softly on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Everything is fine. Take the time you need."

Why was Marisa being so kind to her, Mary couldn't help but wonder? She heard the springs creak as Marisa got off the bed and headed for the door, snapping her fingers at her daemon. She murmured something about checking to see if the man had gone before she quietly slipped out.

"What the  _ fuck  _ just happened?" Mary said out loud—to herself, to the universe, to  _ anyone  _ who would listen and be able to give her an answer _. _

When Mary had come out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, Marisa had a pot of tea made for them already. 

"I thought you might need some," the woman said, handing Mary a steaming cup. "Chamomile. It's what my mother fed me when I'd been upset." She gave a shy smile then, her eyes fluttering up at Mary and then away again, and it was  _ then  _ that everything started falling into place in Mary's still-groggy head. 

_ "You  _ did this!" Mary screeched, slamming the cup down on the table with so much force that it spilled from the sides. The golden monkey let out a surprised grunt. "You're unbelievable! Staging a break-in to make me trust you? I can’t  _ believe  _ this." 

"I  _ beg  _ your pardon?" Marisa replied, her face instantly hardening as she blinked up at Mary. "You're not saying what I think you are."

"I am."

"Will you just listen to yourself? That's utterly ridiculous!" 

"Is it, though?" Mary pressed, feeling wild now as she glared at Marisa with so much hatred that she very well thought she might burst with it. She’d never felt this angry before, she didn’t think. "You forced me to come here. You refused to leave. You’re up to something suspicious. Why wouldn’t it be you?”

“But why  _ would  _ it?” Marisa demanded. “Give me one good reason why I’d want to scare you like this. I want you rested and well so you can use your machine to help me find my daughter. And burglary certainly isn't conducive to that.”

“Or do you want to intimidate so I’ll do exactly as you say?”

"It really baffles me how you keep insulting my intelligence like this."

It was another stand-off now, with both women glowering at the other with such contempt and frustration and suspicion. The air was absolutely thick with it—more so than any of their encounters before.

"It wasn't me," said Marisa hotly, "because that man left a lanyard just outside the door and I happen to know  _ exactly  _ who he works for." She tossed a blue lanyard and a name tag on the table at that. She nodded down to it, inviting Mary to look at it with a twitch of her nose.

"Latrom," Mary read, tilting her head to the side. She sank down into one of the kitchen chairs as she continued to stare down at the tag. "I think I've heard that name before… You said  _ you  _ know him?"

  
"Unfortunately," Marisa spat, her hands moving from balled-up on the table to around her tea cup. "And if you’d just  _ listen  _ to me and stop your raving, I could tell you. I think this is where I can help you, Dr. Malone, and where we might be able to help each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be two parts at Mary's house but, alas, it'll be at least three now! Thank you so much for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part three of Marisa hanging with Mary at her house, in which Mary tries to figure out what is happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been SUPER inspired to write this fic lately :) I don't know if I can keep up this quick pace, but hey, let's take it while we've got it!

“Let me get this straight,” Mary said very slowly from her spot across the table from Marisa. The woman had just told her what she claimed was the  _ truth _ about Charles Latrom and the danger both Lyra and apparently now Mary were in. Mary looked down at her tea, which she'd spilled earlier and had barely touched since. “This Charles Latrom person is actually a man from  _ your  _ world.”

“Yes,” said Marisa patiently. Her hands were folded in front of her neatly, as if she were a schoolgirl sitting at her desk. Mary got the impression that Marisa was trying very hard to appear diligent and trustworthy, which didn't do well to soothe Mary's anxieties about her. 

“And he’s the person who told you about my work, and about Lyra?”

“He is.”

“And he’s dangerous?”

“He likes to think so.”

“And you're here with him…?”

“Because he said he found Lyra, and I want to bring her home.”

Mary sighed then, closing her eyes. This was all too much. Marisa had been hiding some important details from her all along, as she'd fully expected, but it now felt so  _ monumental.  _ She wasn't just staying with some random person who happened to cross between worlds. She was staying with someone who has been actively engineering a life here, who had actual  _ power  _ and  _ capital  _ in a way that indeed made him extremely dangerous. He was someone who has been gaming the system for who  _ knows  _ how long as well as making a complete and utter mess of Mary's life by supposedly orchestrating this break-in. 

"Why would he send someone to break into my house?" Mary blurted out mid-thought. "It doesn't seem like a wise thing to do."

"Because he's greedy," Marisa spat. A strangled sort of fury entered her eyes then. "He told me about your work and about its potential. He's an investor and hears about all sorts of projects. He thinks it's important and wants to control it. And I wouldn't put it past him to have done some snooping like this when he thought you'd be at the office."

"That is greedy," Mary murmured, "if it's true."

"Oh, come on," Marisa puffed. She rolled her eyes and Mary heard the golden monkey let out a low growl. "Are you really going to keep this up? It's exhausting."

"I can't help it, Marisa," Mary shot back, aware of her tone sharpening again. "Can't you agree you've been nothing but trouble from the moment you knocked on my door?" 

"'Trouble' feels like an extreme way to categorize it."

"You don't consider someone breaking into my house trouble?" 

"I do, but it's not because of  _ me." _ Marisa's eyes were shining at her. "I haven't done anything to you, Mary. I am not your enemy."

So she said. In the end, there wasn't much to do about it now. The damage was done. Mary's house was broken into, the man saw what he saw, he took what he took, and Mary was unharmed. Marisa was safe, too, of course, which again she  _ would  _ be if she were the one who had planned it. But Mary could change the locks and install some security cameras and move on from this. She didn't think any lasting damage was done. 

Part of Mary wondered if she was just taking things to extremes in her fragile state. Marisa had been so quick to act during the break-in, and was very uptight about it. She could have been acting, of course, but as a woman who didn't even know what TV was…? For as unreasonable as she'd been before, Marisa was very raw during those moments. She was alarmed. She was  _ angry.  _ She wasn't, as Mary had seen her before,  _ smug  _ or pleased with herself. 

"Am I judging you too harshly?" she found herself asking aloud without even realizing it. She stopped then, feeling herself blush. Marisa simply blinked calmly at her, eyes softening. 

"I can't say I blame you," she finally said. "I know I've been a bit...intense."

"A  _ bit?" _ Mary let out. Marisa laughed at that, as light as the breeze. She smiled, too, her eyes crinkling. In so many ways, everything about her was so inviting and welcoming. It was warm. It was summer. Yet Mary couldn't quite shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was that which made her so utterly suspicious. 

"What can I do to prove it to you?" Marisa finally asked after more back-and-forth. She sounded exasperated now as she gazed at Mary, her smile fading and her eyes looking so very tired. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"It doesn't work like that," Mary commented. "I can't…You just can't  _ make  _ someone believe you. It's a thing that has to be earned."

"Did I not just save you?" Marisa asked. Her tone wasn't indignant but curious. Mary got the impression that she was genuinely puzzled, and that she believed her saving Mary somehow proved her trustworthiness. 

"That's not always enough," said Mary. "Actions by themselves are only half the story." 

Marisa was quiet a moment as she considered her, blue eyes glazed as she stared at a point just off into the distance. Was she thinking about Lyra, Mary wondered? She remembered Marisa saying that she'd saved Lyra twice (from _what_ she didn't know, and perhaps didn't want to know). Was Marisa now wondering if the action alone was enough, and what else she could have done? Does everyone Marisa meet struggle when it comes to trusting her? 

“Tell me more about this man,” Mary said after a few minutes, not wanting to obsess even further about Marisa and her life and her damn  _ feelings _ . She figured she may as well try to learn more about who she was dealing with. “What does he want from all of this? What's his prerogative?”

Marisa let out a laugh at that—cold and piercing. It made Mary uncomfortable. There was a sense of disgust buried in her voice that proceeded to make its way over to her eyes. “Not to be too vain, but…me." Mary's eyes widened. "He wants  _ me _ . He’s here  _ for me _ , and has endangered my daughter  _ for me.” _

"Really," Mary mused. It made sense to Mary even when she didn’t have all the details. Marisa was quite, as she'd said herself before,  _ a catch.  _ It wouldn't surprise Mary for men to completely melt over her. She'd seen it happen for women of far less beauty and charisma. And especially if it was a man from her own world, Marisa would have more exposure to him and power over him. 

Mary felt troubled, though, considering this man and his connection to Lyra. She remembered Lyra being on the run and so determined to set out doing what it was she felt she had to do. She wondered how long this Latrom person had been tracking her, and where she was now, and how much he really knew. She also wondered the extent to which Marisa was involved with him, and felt almost unnerved thinking about it and if she was actually safe with him. She'd watched one too many horror movies of love and seduction gone completely and horribly wrong. 

"Men are fools, Mary," Marisa sighed, breaking into her thoughts as she leaned back in her seat and pushed her tea mug away. She rubbed her temple as she shut her eyes and her daemon popped his golden head up, sniffing at them. "Bloody damn fools."

This was true. Mary couldn't at all disagree. "Hence why I…don't  _ deal  _ with them."

The two women shared a laugh at that. The tension in the air was gone again, almost as if it had never been there at all. They poured some more tea and talked about it, the problem of men. Mary had no romantic interest in them, but that didn't mean she didn't experience the misogyny that Marisa was referring to every single day in her own daily life. It seemed even worse in Marisa's world, of course, but she understood well exactly what it was Marisa meant. It was an understanding only fellow women could share. It was something that brought them closer together, as much as their different worlds pulled them apart. 

"It's getting quite late," Marisa sighed after what felt like hours, and indeed it was. Mary hadn't realized exactly how late it had been since she'd been sleeping and they'd taken their time chatting over the incident. Her watch said it was almost six o'clock already.

"It is," said Mary, yawning again. She'd taken a nap but had grown tired again from the course of events. "I know we wanted to go back to the lab, but…I don't think I can right now."

"That's alright," said Marisa, although Mary sensed some disappointment in her voice. "We certainly didn't expect  _ this  _ to happen."

Mary wondered then where this left them. Prior to the break in, Mary was practically being held hostage. Marisa wouldn't let her go and insisted on watching her every move so that she could show Marisa her machine. They had been at an insufferable standoff. The past few hours seemed to have changed things, however. Marisa didn't seem to be so arrogant. She seemed, in some ways, shaken in a way that was maybe similar to how Mary was: overwhelmed and at a loss of what to do next. 

"I suppose I should go," Marisa said then. 

"Where?" Mary asked, more sharply than she'd intended to. As Marisa simply stared at her, Mary blinked. "You mean to Latrom's?" 

"Yes," she answered, disdain once again evident in her voice. "He'll be expecting me." 

"You don't owe him anything." Mary hated the control that man seemed to exert on her, and the patriarchal undertones that seemed to color Marisa's entire existence and operations. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And, given what this man seemed to be capable of, didn't seem  _ safe.  _

Why was it, Mary vaguely wondered, that she felt so worried about Marisa like this? 

"Where else would I go?" Marisa mused. Her eyes flashed then as the monkey shifted by her feet. She bit her lip slightly. "Stay here with you?" 

It was a thought. Mary felt her head spin for a moment as she considered it. First and foremost: it was risky. She still didn't know anything about Marisa or if this was, in fact, her doing. She could have planned the entire thing. Or, Marisa could be innocent, and Mary could be lashing out (understandably) after a horrible, terrible couple of days. That being said, though, if Marisa  _ was  _ involved and she stayed here, she'd have less opportunity to report back to Latrom. Mary could keep an eye on her (well, when she wasn't sleeping). She could maybe pry more out of her, or convince her to leave her the hell  _ alone.  _

She didn't know what to do, or what to think. Which made the most sense? How was she to know? 

"I'll spare you the decision," Marisa said softly a few beats later. "I've already intruded enough and taken too much of your time. I'll see you again in the morning at the lab, to continue our… _ conversation."  _

It was almost a mirror of how they'd first met not even a full day ago as Mary simply blinked and Marisa got up to leave, smirking. Her lips, Mary just now noticed, were still perfectly red and polished. They twitched up into a half-smile as Marisa stood up out of her chair, gesturing to the monkey. 

Mary had to decide. It was now or it was never, and she had to think about what was best in this situation—and also what she  _ wanted.  _

"I'd like for you to stay," she suddenly stammered, watching as Marisa paused mid-stretch as she reached over for her bag. 

"You would?" the other woman asked, something inscrutable glinting in her eyes.

"Yes, to keep an eye on you," Mary told her, mostly to justify it to herself. "And to, you know, maybe annoy Latrom. Put a wrench in his plans."

Marisa smiled at her in full now. It was a vicious smile, almost, although Mary couldn't tell if it was directed toward her or to Latrum. But it was quite passionate and, as all things Marisa, infectious. 

"Let me just send him a text, then," Marisa drawled, eyes lowering toward her smartphone as her tongue moved to swipe across her lips playfully. She seemed to be enjoying this. "What should I tell him? I do love this short form of communication. Makes things much simpler and also so  _ mysterious." _

"I don't know," Mary shrugged, playing with the string of her teabag. "Something that'll make him angry. But don't tell him you're here! Gosh, I don't think I can handle any more  _ drama  _ tonight."

_ Then why is it you invited her to stay?  _ Mary couldn't help but ask herself, which made her feel most uncomfortable, yet again. 

"Hmm," Marisa simply mused in return, her eyes focused on the phone in her hands. "Maybe I'll just tell him I've  _ met _ someone."

Mary couldn't believe this was happening and that she was choosing to do this. It was most unlike her, to make impulsive decisions like this, but she had to admit she was curious—about Marisa, about Lyra, about dark matter. And Marisa was the one thing that weaved through all of them. So it made sense to do this, right? Especially if Mary thought Marisa was a threat? What was it they said—keep your friends close but your enemies closer? 

"Where does he think you are, anyway?" Mary asked as she stood up from her seat and headed toward the kitchen. She supposed she needed to start thinking about dinner for them. Again, she realized all this work was falling to  _ her,  _ although this time she literally asked for it. 

"Exploring," Marisa answered. She looked at Mary and watched her rummaging through the fridge, her face serene. " _ Experimenting _ ."

  
_ Oh. _ Mary blushed again, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She buried her head in the fridge then as she looked for ingredients to cook, as well tried desperately to cool down just a little bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the "Marisa hanging with Mary at her house" sequence will continue on for a fourth installment :D I'm just having too much fun. I hope you are, too!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part four of Marisa hanging with Mary at her house, in which Mary and Marisa have a sleepover before heading back to the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm not entirely sure what about our world doesn't quite exist in Marisa's, so taking a tiny liberty and figuring that takeout as we know it isn't really a thing there :)

After a difficult few minutes rifling through the fridge to find something edible, Mary gave up and decided to order takeout. She wasn’t a particularly  _ bad  _ cook, but she didn’t often cook gourmet meals in the way she felt like Marisa might expect. Mary liked quick and simple fixes like pasta and all-in-one dishes; she ate more for practicality than for pleasure. That was good enough for her but wasn’t exactly food you served to  _ company,  _ if she could even consider Marisa  _ company _ at this point. She was also very tired from the day’s activities and had the distinct impression that Marisa would hardly know how to turn on a stove let alone help her  _ cook  _ anything on it.

“Takeout?” Marisa asked her, staring as Mary picked up her phone and pulled up her app.

“Yeah,” said Mary absently, scrolling through the nearest places. The Paste Tree was one of her favorites, as they had a great range of pizza and tacos. Oxford’s Grill was also fun. There were a lot of different options that Mary typically considered depending on her mood. Right now she was tired and overwhelmed, so she wanted something full of carbs and regrets. 

As Marisa didn’t say anything in return, Mary turned to look at her. “Takeout," she repeated. "You know, where they come and deliver food to your house.”

“Someone brings food  _ here _ ?” Marsia said, sounding aghast. The monkey looked up from where he sat by the staircase, his little black eyes widening.

“Mhmm,” said Mary, tilting her head to the side to consider Marisa more fully. This didn't feel like a novel invention for a civilized society, really. In fact, from even her most surface-level studies of sociology and anthropology, Mary felt like human cultures have long prepared food to be served to other people. It's changed over time, but the basic premise has remained the same. “Don’t you have restaurants in your world?”

“Of course we do,” said Marisa stuffily, “but we don’t just call a place to  _ bring _ us food. We always go there.”

“Oh,” said Mary, her brow furrowing. “But…don’t you have cars?”

“Yes.”

“Yet no delivery?”

“None that I know of.”

It was intriguing to Mary, since most of her meals these days  _ were  _ takeout that other people brought  _ to _ her. Perhaps it was the fast pace of her world and her work that made it such an instinctive thing to do. She supposed she should feel bad about that, maybe, since she was condoning and perpetuating the world of fast consumerism and capitalism. She also wondered, societally speaking,  _ why  _ Marisa’s world didn’t have takeout, which her world had adopted during the prime of its chase for a life of convenience. Was her theocratically-oriented world immune from the curse of convenience? Were they doing it  _ better  _ than Mary's world in that way? 

“Can’t you just make something here?” Marisa pressed as Mary kept theorizing about takeout. She seemed a bit bothered at the idea of people coming to deliver food. Apprehensive, more like it. 

“No, Marisa,” Mary sighed, turning back to her phone and stewing just a tiny bit. “I’m tired and I don’t feel like cooking. Unless  _ you’d  _ like to?”

Marisa paused, turning her head to consider the kitchen. She frowned as her eyes surveyed the electric burner and the oven. She’d made tea earlier, which wasn’t all that difficult, but was she willing to gather and prepare ingredients to fry or to bake? Did she even know  _ how _ ? Marisa's mouth twisted then as the monkey came over to her, shaking his little head and tapping at her leg.

“Good lord, woman,” Mary muttered as she clicked on The Paste Tree’s menu. “Let’s not  _ burden  _ you with that. Now, tell me: what kind food do you like?”

Once Mary placed their order, she went to join Marisa in the living room, turning on a lamp since the woman was sitting in complete darkness.

"Oh," Marisa let out as she blinked rapidly. "Thank you. I...didn't know where the light source was."

Mary nodded and cleared her throat as she clicked on the TV. The news was on, which felt safe and boring enough for them to stare at as they sat stiffly beside one another on the sofa, waiting for their dinner to arrive. Mary still didn't know what she was doing. This felt increasingly absurd, and like so many social situations in which she'd agreed to go out somewhere but then immediately regretted it and wanted to go home. Except here she  _ was  _ home, and there was nowhere to hide. 

Marisa still had on her blue skirt suit, which was starting to wrinkle now, Mary noticed. Her hat was sitting neatly on an empty armchair with her shoes, where her daemon also sat tensely. The woman sat poised on the sofa, her feet flat on the ground and her hands folded in her lap. 

“Aren’t you uncomfortable in those clothes?” Mary asked her after a few minutes, eying her sideways. She wasn't sitting as comfortably as she had before. Her mood seemed more sour, too, as she occasionally scowled down at her phone every so often. Mary wondered how Latrom had taken her decision to stay somewhere  _ else. _

“No,” Marisa said, but she sounded unsure.

“You can wear some of mine,” Mary offered. Marisa looked at her strangely. “I mean, I’m sure it’s not your... _ style,  _ but it’d be a lot more comfortable. I have sweatpants and proper pajamas.”

Mary was trying to play it cool. This was normal, wasn’t it? She’d offer this to anyone who came to stay with her, extraordinarily beautiful woman from another world or not. She tried not to let on how awkward she was feeling, which she felt despite her best efforts  _ not  _ to.

“Oh,” Marisa said, exchanging a quick glance with the monkey. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, if I’m to be staying here for the evening…”

As Mary expected, Marisa was  _ most  _ unpleased with Mary’s apparel.

“You don’t own anything... _ Nicer  _ than this?” Marisa asked as she eyed the pants Mary pulled out and laid on her bed. Mary offered her some plain gray sweatpants, checkered pajama bottoms, and a selection of t-shirts. They were probably a bit too big for her since Marisa was more slender than Mary, but they'd fit well enough. The woman’s eyes were narrowed and flecked with a gentle shade of disgust as she picked up the checkered pajama pants to examine them. 

“I’m afraid not,” said Mary, starting to get irritated as Marisa was essentially calling her a slob. These weren’t  _ fancy  _ clothes, but they certainly weren't as  _ repulsive _ as she made them out to be. "And unless you’d like to sleep in that outfit, then I suggest you make do.”

Marisa snorted at her then as she reached forward to drop the checkered pants and pick up the gray ones. “Fine.”

She then, without warning, started unbuttoning her jacket, which had nothing underneath except a black, laced bra.

_ “Oh!”  _ Mary let out, averting her eyes as quickly as she could. She’d caught a glimpse of the woman’s chest and felt herself blushing fiercely. Her face felt hot and her head practically spun. Mary heard an amused chuckle from the other woman as she shook her head and then headed for the door. “I’ll, uh, l-leave you to it.”

This was bad. As Mary went over to the kitchen to pull out something to drink, she tried to catch her breath. She didn't  _ want  _ to be affected like this. Not with Marisa and all the secrets and lies she was spouting! There was still something about her that Mary inherently didn't trust and that made her feel most unsettled, yet at the same time… Mary couldn't help but realize the woman had a  _ fantastic  _ chest and skin so milky white and pure. 

_ Oh, God,  _ Mary thought, pulling out a bottle of water and pressing it to her cheeks. This was too much. 

A minute later the doorbell rang and Mary ran off to go answer it, feeling mightily relieved.

“Thank you,” she was saying to the delivery man, reaching out to take the box and the bag.

“That’ll be twenty six-fifty.”

“Right—Oh! My wallet’s on the table. Give me a minute? I’ll be right back.”

As she turned around to go and get her wallet, however, Marisa had somehow materialized right in front her, smiling wide. She was wearing the gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Mary’s eyes widened as she saw how tightly the shirt clung to her body and accentuated her curves and her bust. Her black bra was also quite visible through the thin white fabric in a way that made Mary’s cheeks redden again.

“I’ve got it, darling,” Marisa simply sang, offering her a wink and then handing the delivery body a collection of bills.

“Do you even—”

“You can keep the change,” she told the delivery man, her eyes bright and her tone dismissive. “Thank you.”

“How did you even get  _ money?” _

The two were standing by the kitchen table now as they sorted through the food. Mary opened the pizza box and took each of the tacos out, setting them aside a bag of potato chips she'd brought from the cabinet earlier in the evening. Mary also pulled out a couple plates as well as some napkins and empty glasses.

“My  _ friend _ helped me out,” Marisa said simply, eying the empty glasses. “Dr. Malone, may I ask what you have to drink in your house? And if you have anything  _ strong _ ?”

This was, again, bad. Very, very bad. As Mary moved over to her liquor cabinet, she happened to catch the eye of the golden monkey, who was shyly gazing up at her with eyes that were widened slightly (just like Mary's, she could only assume). Mary pulled out the strongest proof whisky she could find, ogling as Marisa drained the shot in one gulp and then asked for another. 

“You’ll want to pace yourself,” Mary warned her.

“We have alcohol in my world, too,” Marisa said with a laugh, leaning to lightly brush a stray collection of hair from Mary’s face. Mary, luckily, stopped herself from shuddering. “And I  _ quite _ enjoy it. Do join me, won’t you?”

Mary was quite the lightweight, which didn't bode well for her. 

"You know, Dr. Malone," Marisa sang as Mary hiccuped before biting into her pizza, "I believe you might be drunk."

Mary was, so she laughed. Marisa laughed too as she watched her, blue eyes light and amused. Mary liked looking at Marisa. She was so pretty. No, she was  _ stunning,  _ with her clear skin, sharp jaw, round lips, and curvy build. Mary didn't know if she'd ever seen someone as beautiful as Marisa. And she was so  _ intelligent,  _ too, as she'd told Mary about her studies and her world. It made her heart practically burst, to find someone who was both so smart and so beautiful. The woman almost didn't seem real. Mary swore when she'd first come across her that she'd only been a dream, yet here she was—sitting before her in her house. She was very real. 

"Tell me a secret about yourself," Marisa was saying, her voice practically a purr as she leaned forward. She was wearing Mary's clothes but still had her own distinctive scent that wafted through Mary's nostrils. 

"Like what?" Mary asked, taking another sip of her drink. She'd switched from straight whiskey to whiskey and Coke, as she needed to kick it down a notch. 

"What's your biggest fear?" 

That was an interesting question. Mary had a lot of fears. Certain bugs, for instance, as they creeped her out. She wasn't a big fan of jump scare movies either. Heights never bothered her as she'd climbed many a mountain in her youth. When she thought about it, her biggest fear was actually not something physical or tangible at all. 

"Disappointing others," she finally whispered. Marisa's eyes were glued to hers. "Failing to live up to my work when I know I can." 

"Are you afraid of disappointing Lyra in trusting me?" Marisa's voice was soft, no harsher than a whisper. Her monkey daemon was very, very close to Mary now, just a touch away from her on the back of the couch.

"Should I be?" Mary asked back. She was drunk, but she wasn't stupid. She noted the way Marisa frowned slightly as she considered her. Mary remembered her misgivings about Marisa, even as her thoughts ventured further and further elsewhere as she leaned closer to the other woman. 

"Yes," Marisa breathed back. Her face was shed of its amusement now as she looked Mary squarely in the face. "You shouldn't trust me."

And then their lips came together very slowly, and hesitantly. Mary closed her eyes as Marisa's entire presence swirled around her. She felt Marisa's hand find hers resting on the sofa. Their fingers intertwined as their mouths made contact, lightly brushing against the other's. 

Mary felt a softness she hadn't felt in quite some time. She felt excited and feathery and heated in a way that almost made her feel guilty. She barely knew this woman! And she was dangerous. Her actions told Mary as much, as well her actual  _ words  _ just now. But, Mary wanted this. Without knowing what she was doing, her other hand went to find Marisa's face. She touched the woman's cheek as she continued to assault her lips, daring to open her mouth just a tiny bit. 

But then it was over as Marisa pulled away, eyes sparking at her. 

"It's getting quite late," she murmured, looking again at Mary's lips and then back at her eyes. There was something off about her now, though. She felt colder quite suddenly. "We've got a busy day tomorrow. Perhaps you should rest."

Mary stood up and nodded, her body still tingling but her mind still racing over what had just happened.

"Have I…done something wrong?" Mary asked her just before she left, eyes searching the other woman's. 

Some kind of unreadable  _ feeling  _ flickered there. Mary couldn't determine what it was. Glancing over at the monkey, though, she thought she almost saw  _ sadness  _ radiate from him! But then it was gone, and all Mary had left was Marisa's terse smile. 

"Certainly not," she said sweetly, moving her legs to lay across the sofa and then snuggle down onto the cushion. "I'm just tired now. Good night, Dr. Malone. I'll see you when you wake up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jskfhjksfsj Okay, I wasn't initially going to put that last part in, but it simply materialized as I was writing (!). I'm just so excited about this fic.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Marisa get ready to head back to the lab, as well as have an uncomfortable conversation.

When Mary woke up, her head slightly pounding and her mouth rather dry, she remembered what happened, gasped, and then pulled the duvet tighter over her chest. 

Lyra. The Cave. The sudden meeting. The police officer. The phone call. The lunch. The break-in. The takeout.  _ The kiss.  _

Oh, part of Mary very desperately wanted to hide under the covers and melt away into the fabric. Her face  _ burned  _ as she closed her eyes, reliving every damn moment despite her best attempts not to. She could think more clearly now and she practically cringed as she remembered how she'd behaved and what she'd done. It was most unlike her, and  _ rude  _ of her as a host. It was entirely unprofessional and unacceptable and just so incredibly  _ embarrassing. _

But, was it all entirely her fault? Mary remembered Marisa's eyes shining at her, flickering in the lamp lighting behind the sofa. She'd been interested. Mary wouldn't have  _ dared _ act otherwise. This whole time Marisa had teased her so, with writing her number on her arm and saying they were on a date and leaning forward to whisper at her every opportunity she could possibly get. 

But why? Mary had to think carefully about this. Marisa must have a reason. She was a very calculating woman. She didn't strike Mary as one to act on impulse or to lose control of herself, even if she wanted to (which, as it was, Mary very much questioned in this instance). Marisa wanted something. Lyra, naturally, and Mary's machine to help locate her. That part was abundantly clear. And what is it Marisa had said to her? That she shouldn't trust her?  _ Of course  _ Mary shouldn't trust her, as she’d known all along.

_ Then why did you enjoy that so much…?  _ She heard a small voice in her head asking.

Mary finally worked up the courage to leave her bedroom, taking a deep breath and easing her door open. She smoothed down her wrinkled t-shirt and pajama pants as she stepped into her slippers. When she crept out into the living room, peaking shyly around the corner from the wall, she saw that Marisa was still asleep. 

She was lying peaceably on the gray cushions, a thin blanket arranged loosely over her body as she slept on her back. All Mary could do was watch her in that moment, how her breathing was slow and steady and her chest moved up and down in a rhythmic pace. Her daemon, too, was sleeping over in the corner on the chair, his little body curled up as if he were a cat. 

Marisa was soft and gentle as she slept. Both the woman and her daemon were so still. A normally fierce spirit tempered with such innocence. It was remarkable to see, really.

“Marisa,” Mary said after a few more moments, moving over to her to shake the woman’s shoulder. When she didn’t move, Mary did it again, with just a little more force. It was imperative she didn’t frighten her. “Marisa, wake up.”

“Mmm,” Marisa murmured, shifting her head slightly before breathing deeply again and curling closer to the back of the couch. Mary sighed as she moved her hand to instead touch Mary’s face, resting the back of her hand against her cheek. The woman’s blue eyes suddenly opened and locked onto Mary’s.

“Hey,” Mary said, awkwardly. What was one supposed to do in this situation? She was hosting a strange woman from another world whom she’d  _ kissed  _ and who was using Mary’s research for her own selfish purposes to find her missing (probably on purpose) child. Mary was fairly sure there was literally no rulebook in existence that could guide her through what to do now. She was completely on her own.

Marisa blinked a couple times before forcing her face into a curt smile. She then sat up, tossing the blanket away from her and stretching her arms out. “Good morning, Dr. Malone. Did you sleep well?”

“You can call me Mary, you know,” Mary blurted out then, but she immediately regretted it as she saw Marisa’s eyes harden.

“I’d rather not,” she said lightly, glancing over at her daemon, who was just starting to wake up himself. “What time is it? Have I slept too long?”

Oh, the  _ tension  _ swirling around them! Neither woman had said anything about  _ what happened,  _ even though Mary knew very well that both of them knew it. If  _ Mary  _ could remember it as intoxicated as she’d been from just a few drinks, she knew that Marisa did, too. The woman seemed hardly fazed at all by the alcohol (that Mary could tell, which honestly probably didn’t count for much), so Mary was certain she was very well aware of everything. What was she really thinking, Mary wondered? She scooped some coffee into a filter as Marisa was changing and getting ready in the bathroom. Was she upset with Mary? Disappointed? Completely indifferent to it all?

“How do you like your eggs?” Mary asked Marisa as she came back into the kitchen. She set a cup of coffee on the island for her, watching as Marisa eyed her carefully. “I put some cream and sugar in for you. I hope that’s alright. I remembered that’s how you took it the other day.”

Surprise flickered across Marisa’s face at that, along with something  _ else.  _ The golden monkey, for his part, hopped up onto the island eagerly, sniffing at the mug.

“Oh,” Mary said, peering down at him kindly as he looked at her in return. “Would he—would you like some water, or some oats, or—”

“Daemons don’t eat,” Marisa said sharply, directing her glare at the monkey who cowered away from Mary then, breaking eye contact and jumping down. “I told you that already.”

“That’s right,” Mary murmured, concerned as she glanced at where the monkey had just been. He’d looked interested before Marisa scared him away, and not at all as tense as Marisa was acting. He always seemed so detached from her in a weird way Mary couldn't quite fully articulate. She wished she could talk to him. “So, what about those eggs?”

“That’s not necessary,” said Marisa stuffily, holding her head up. “Just take me to the lab now.”

“Well,  _ I  _ certainly need to eat.” Mary rolled her eyes and went back to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, the gallon of milk, and a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. “And I’d suggest you join me, or else starve on campus with nothing to eat but terrible vending machine food in the lobby.”

Marisa said nothing as Mary proceeded to cook. Mary saw that she took a seat at the island, slowly and cautiously as if she were walking through a trap. She sipped at the coffee, too, looking down at it pensively before taking a longer sip. Mary heard the monkey grunt from somewhere on the ground and had to bite back a laugh, thinking about how strange it must be for literally every single one of them. The morning after except…literally not at all. How did Mary find herself in these bizarre situations, anyway? 

“What did you put in these eggs?” 

They were eating their eggs now with Marisa picking through them with her fork, eyes measured as she moved from her plate to Mary. There was no emotion there, really, which felt a bit off-putting. 

“Special recipe,” Mary answered, “like my mum used to make. I put milk and cheese in the egg as I fry it. Makes it extra fluffy.”

“Huh,” said Marisa as she took another bite, her eyes again so damn  _ unreadable. _

“Is it to your taste?” Mary asked, suddenly nervous. She didn’t know  _ why.  _ It seemed that no matter what she did Marisa would be upset with her, or half-ignore her, or act entirely above her in a way that honestly just seemed so  _ Marisa _ . But Mary still wanted to be a good host, to prove to Marisa that she was  _ better  _ than whatever she may have thought of her, especially after last night.

“It’s fine,” said Marisa curtly, moving to sip her coffee.

“Are you sure?” Mary pressed, gesturing to the left of her. “I’ve got salt and pepper here, and if you like I could grab some—”

“Will you just  _ stop?”  _ Suddenly Marisa’s eyes were flashing and her breathing heavy as she glared over at Mary. Her eyes were cold again flecked with an intense sort of irritation.

“Stop what?” 

“This  _ fussing,”  _ Marisa fumed, throwing her fork down and pushing back her chair roughly. She was angry. Very, very angry. “You don’t have to do this, Dr. Malone. Nothing happened. You don’t owe me anything. No harm, no foul.”

Now  _ this  _ was something. Mary looked at Marisa through a new lens just then. She saw not an arrogant, insufferable socialite used to a world of grand luxury and comfort but rather, a hesitant and confused woman lost in another world. She knew this was as awkward for Marisa as it was for her, even if she refused to show it. Mary supposed  _ this  _ was her way of lashing out: shoving aside her feelings. She’d rather pretend nothing happened and then, when it became unavoidable, go on the offensive. Vaguely, and with a blush threatening to spread to her cheeks, Mary also wondered if Marisa had ever kissed a woman before. She wondered what she was feeling, and what it meant to her, and how intense the whole ordeal must be. 

“I’m not trying to ‘do’ anything, Marisa,” Mary said eventually with a sigh, dropping her own fork and crossing her arms. “I’m just trying to be a good host, as I invited you to stay in my home. That means cooking you things and making sure you're comfortable. And you don’t have to be weird about what happened last night.” As Marisa’s eyes darkened, Mary shook her head. “No, nothing happened. And I’m sorry for what  _ did  _ happen—or, ‘didn’t happen.’ But we’re adults here, and we can be mature about this. Just finish your eggs and then we can get going, alright?”

That seemed to clear some of the tension in the air. It felt considerably lighter, at any rate, once Mary finally addressed it. Marisa didn’t say anything as she scooted her chair back in, resuming her delicate assault of the eggs as her monkey daemon inched closer and closer to Mary. When he was sitting only a foot or so away, Mary looked down at him. His eyes were bright and clear in a way that Marisa’s never were. They looked thankful, and sorry, and for a moment all Mary could do was just stare back, not sure what to do. But then Mary sensed Marisa's eyes on him, and he scooted away. It was all so very strange. 

Once they were finished and Mary put everything away, as well as changed into a new set of clothes for the day, they were back to business.

“What’s the plan?” Marisa asked her as they set out for campus. It was a cool and sunny morning, which made for a nice walk. They walked side-by-side, with Marisa leaving a pointed distance between them. 

“Well, I have to go in and see what I can do,” Mary responded truthfully. “I’m still playing around with certain programming to get it to work. It’ll take more experimentation, along with some particle trials.”

“Particle trials?” Marisa repeated, voice intrigued but, at the same time, suppressed in a way, as if she didn’t want to share just  _ how  _ intrigued she was. Was that the kind of life she needed to lead, Mary couldn’t help but wonder? One where she held back her intellectual curiosity from everyone around her? Even herself?

Mary explained the process some as they crossed the street and headed closer toward central campus. She noticed Marisa gradually grew closer in proximity as they talked, going back and forth about particles and energy sources and measurements. Marisa knew what she was talking about, of course, which Mary had gathered but saw even more clearly now as their conversion grew more technical. Experimental theology wasn’t quite the same as physics, but they held some of the same laws in common. Although Mary still couldn’t quite understand the role theology played in science…

They approached Mary’s favorite coffee stand as they were in the middle of a particularly heated argument about anbaric versus electric energy. Desperate to escape it, Mary stopped to get them some coffee. Marisa seemed displeased and impatient, tugging her handbag closer to her and looking at her watch as she waited.

“There is one thing I want to know before we go into the lab,” Mary said then, biting her lip. She didn’t quite know how to say it, but she knew that she had to.

“What?” Marisa was cross. Angry. Probably still from their argument, or just in general.

"Why are we doing this?" Mary searched Marisa's eyes again, willing herself to see through the ice that met her. "What do you really want?" 

"I want to use your machine to find my daughter," Marisa said quickly. Her eyes were bright now, struck with such unwavering passion. "She's in danger, and there are several other people looking for her. If you could find out where she is, then I could get to her before they do."

"And then what?" Mary pressed. This part of Marisa's plan continued to bother her. She never actually said what she'd do after they found Lyra. "What are you going to do with her once you've found her?" 

"Take her home," Marisa said at once. 

"Home to a world where the church forbids your research and doesn’t allow girls like Lyra to grow up into positions of power or influence? And that is, as you say, is full of people trying to hurt her?" Marisa merely stared at her, clutching her coffee tightly. "Marisa, you have to understand how silly this sounds."

"But it's  _ not, _ " Marisa insisted, stomping her foot on the cement sidewalk. She was fighting back tears now, Mary could see, which hadn’t been there a mere four seconds before. "I'm her mother. I have to take care of her and keep her safe."

That wasn't an answer. Mary knew that, and so did Marisa, most likely. Marisa  _ knew  _ that Mary knew, and that she didn't buy it. But for some reason they both sighed and then continued on, sipping their coffees in silence now as they moved forward toward Mary’s building. The golden monkey was hidden away in Marisa’s handbag, but Mary wondered what other feelings he might betray if he were out. 

  
What Marisa wanted wasn't that easy. She'd also never said why Lyra was missing in the first place, which Mary increasingly was starting to guess and piece together. She didn't want to say it now, as Marisa seemed quite upset and it was already so fragile between them, but she could have all the good intentions in the world and not be in a suitable position to protect Lyra. It seemed like stating the obvious to say that, really, but only if one was willing to hear it. And Marisa did  _ not  _ seem to be in that position yet, if she ever even  _ could  _ be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes with the monkey inspired by @hattersarts' Mary/Marisa fan art on Twitter. So good, and depict a sweet relationship between them that I totally think would happen! Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter :) at the end of the day, Mary is just too good for this world.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary introduces Marisa to the lab, which is quite a new world and experience for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowed/adapted some technical language from the show about how the Cave works (I am no scientist, just to fully disclaim!).

The trip down to the lab was a short one, taking not even five minutes after Mary and Marisa left the coffee stand.

“What is this?” Marisa said very slowly as they entered the dark room, Marisa first and Mary just behind her. The lights were off but the engine was glowing as Marisa gravitated toward it. Mary flicked the switch and Marisa continued to stare intensely at the glass wall, not even fazed by the sudden lighting. 

“This is our infamous lab,” Mary answered, staring as Marisa moved closer to the glass. She seemed to be inexplicably drawn to it from the moment they’d entered the room. She put her hand against the wall, peering inside with such an intense look on her face. She looked lost in a trance, almost, in a way that Mary couldn’t quite understand or describe.

"That's the engine," Mary continued, feeling more and more wary as the woman continued to gawk at it. Her fascination seemed almost  _ too  _ intense, if that were possible.  _ Or was Mary just being overly possessive of her work?  _ "This is how we can do the bulk of our work. Are… Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Marisa said softly, her eyes still locked on the glass. Something changed in the air around them now as she kept staring at the machine, her head tilted to the side and her mouth slightly parted. She'd set her bag down on the ground and the monkey had jumped out, too, also gazing at the glass. “It just... reminds me of a place I used to work.”

“And where was that?” Mary wondered aloud. Marisa had never mentioned _where_ exactly she'd worked. Mary got the impression that it probably wasn't anywhere as official as a college lab given the constant state of _shock_ she was in at all the technology. Marisa always conveniently left out little, important details, like who she was aligned with and what her overall goals were. The woman glowered at her in return and walked away, which made Mary think that the subject of her previous employment was a rather _sore_ spot. Which again intrigued her in a way it probably shouldn’t.

“This device can find Lyra?” Marisa asked instead, circling around to inspect the computer. Her eyes scanned the monitor, the cords, and the keyboard before she reached out to run her finger lightly along them. She also paused as she took in Mary’s notebooks and all of her sloppy recordings and thoughts. As Mary clicked the button on the side of the monitor to turn it on, Marisa’s eyes widened then narrowed.

“Well, it  _ might,”  _ Mary admitted, sitting down at her chair. “Admittedly I haven’t gotten it to properly communicate with me yet.”

“How does it work? Tell me.” Marisa’s voice was deep and commanding again as it had been when they first met. It was hard not to immediately yield to it, with the power it exerted in that moment. There was a palpable shift in the room then as Marisa came over from the side of the computer desk to stand directly next to Mary. Mary could smell her scent again, the sweet and spicy mixture of lavender and honey. 

“Well, we built an electromagnetic field around a detector to try and isolate the signal of dark matter—of Dust,” Mary began, watching Marisa closely. She was looking back at the glass wall, her eyes scanning the figures Mary had drawn. Mary could sense the recognition in her eyes. “And then we fed that through the Cave—this engine—to amplify it. We use the electrodes here to measure the participles and signals.”

“And what have you been finding?” Marisa sounded breathless now, turning to look at Mary again. Mary was almost taken aback by the hunger in the woman’s light blue depths. Mary was aware of the golden monkey prowling around by their feet, too, restless and anxious to hear what Mary had to say. It almost seemed unnatural, yet at the same time, Mary recognized some of the energy she saw in herself and the way she, too, felt about this work and finding out these answers.

“Nothing—at first,” Mary continued, wondering more and more  _ why  _ she was telling Marisa any of this when it wasn’t yet published and she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t try to steal it. But, at the same time, how would Marisa do that, when she could barely function in this world? “I started testing objects to see if the particles would respond differently. I saw more activity when the items were man-made—a chess piece, my I-Ching box in particular. Finally, in a moment of madness, I attached myself.” Mary paused here, watching as Marisa seemed to devour every single word. “But it was only afterwards when I was lost in thought that it happened.”

“That  _ what  _ happened?”

“The shadow particles made contact.”

Mary’s eyes flashed at that. The monkey let out a small cry, too, his eyes distressed as he looked from Mary to Marisa. Again a heavy tension swirled around them as Marisa tore right through Mary’s eyes and seemed to search the very pit of her soul after that last bit.

“The Magisterium would say that’s heresy,” she said quietly after what felt like minutes. Her eyes flitted away to stare at the monitor, and then back over at the engine. “They’d say all of this was. They’d imprison you and sentence you to several years of hard labor.”

“My gosh,” Mary breathed. That sounded terrible. Lyra had mentioned to her that the Magisterium “controlled everything,” which Mary had interpreted to be inherently theocratic given the reference to Dust as original sin. But Mary hadn’t imagined this organization to be  _ that  _ bad. Marisa had told her a fair share of details as well, but she’d conveniently skipped over the kinds of punishment and crimes they dealt with.

“Did they think your work was heretical, Marisa?” Mary asked her then, as innocently as she could. She didn’t even know  _ what,  _ exactly, Marisa’s work was, which might be part of this overall problem Mary was faced with. Who even was this woman? What is it that she did? The longer this went on, the more Mary realized that she had no idea. Absolutely no idea. And that, partially, it didn't seem to matter to her. Even when it  _ should.  _

“Not exactly,” Marisa mused. “I presented a sort of... _ framing  _ that kept it within the purview of the Magisterium’s mission.”

This wasn’t good. Mary again felt unnerved as she listened to Marisa, and tried to take in what she was saying. As their previous talks revealed, she knew an awful lot about dark matter and physics and research more generally. There was no denying that. But what was her ultimate aim, Mary couldn’t help but wonder? Where was she  _ going  _ with all of this?

“So you see, it’s a bit of a shock to me,” Marisa continued, “to hear such talk. This isn’t something I could exactly do or say in my own world.”

“I understand,” said Mary, and she did. She couldn’t even  _ fathom  _ all that Marisa had gone through the past few days, walking into a new world with new technology, new expectations, and now new understandings of science and advancement. It had to be very hard, and experiencing such an inherently different worldview would definitely be part of it. “But we’re not in your world anymore, Marisa.” Her eyes were back, searching Mary’s. “You’re allowed to investigate these things. You don’t have to be afraid of it.”

“I’ve never been afraid of it,” Marisa whispered then, turning back to the monitor. Marisa was staring at the screen intently, her eyes flickering over each of the numbers scrolling every which way on the screen from Mary’s programming. Her mouth was parted slightly and her face was crossed between hunger and enchantment. She stepped closer, the light playing off her eyes. Mary looked into them and could see glitters of gold sparkling back at her. "Are you afraid of it, Dr. Malone?" 

"No," Mary said instantly, and Marisa smiled. Actually and sincerely smiled, to the point where Mary couldn’t help but smile at her in return. That connection was back between them. Mary could almost forget that Marisa was dangerous as all she felt right then was the thrill of her work and the excitement of sharing it with someone who seemed to truly and sincerely understand it, which is something Mary didn’t expect that she would ever find.

“Good,” Marisa murmured, staring at her a moment longer before going back to the machine. “Now that the introductions are over, shall we get to work?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one this time, focused more on the intellectual connection Mary and Marisa share when it comes to their work. I'm drafting out later sections and have a general plan of what is to come, so it's a matter of filling out each bit as I go. I also don't like to work TOO far ahead, as sometimes ideas just strike me in the moment and that can be valuable!
> 
> I'm so glad to hear people are enjoying this, as I've certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you for sticking with it for almost 25k words now. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Marisa work together to try and communicate with the Cave. As they do so, Mary grows increasingly curious about the nature of daemons and how it might relate to her research.

Mary very carefully began inserting some numbers into the computer, typing without looking as she focused on the left window of the screen. She'd gone through her notes and checked some of her books before determining the best course of action. She still wasn't sure if this code would work, but it was at least a  _ start.  _ Mary would know more once she'd given it a go. Programming an engine to provide particles of consciousness a voice was proving to be rather difficult, as she'd very well expected. 

"What are you doing now, Dr. Malone?" Marisa asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at the screen. She was standing next to Mary with her arms crossed, as she'd been for the past half hour. 

Explaining code to Marisa was proving to be exhausting. She wanted to know every single detail.  _ Every. Single. Detail.  _ Mary had honestly never met anyone more fascinated by coding than Marisa. Typically it wasn’t an inherently interesting area of study, as it required extensive attention to detail and numbers and patterns. In fact, Mary thought Marisa was more interested in the  _ technology  _ than the actual process itself.

“You can type it all here in this machine?” Marisa asked after Mary described it a bit more. She leaned against the computer desk just off to Mary's right and looked down at her curiously. Mary was focused on the screen in front of her and on what she was typing, but she couldn’t help but see from the corner of her eye the way Marisa’s skirt tightened over her thighs from that position, and the way her suit clung to her frame and highlighted the round curve of her waist. She had a very nice figure, Mary couldn’t help but admire. It was curvier and rounder than her own body, and of other women she knew more generally. There was something so... _ appealing  _ about her. 

_ Focus,  _ Mary said to herself, embarrassed at the blush warming her face. She needed to shut this down before it got out of control.  _ Focus on the keys in front of you.  _

“Yes,” Mary stammered, looking straight ahead of her at the screen. “Where else would I write out the calculations?”

“By hand,” Marisa answered, and she laughed—sweet and light, as if they were talking about any old thing. 

Mary’s eyes widened as she spun her chair around to face her. “By  _ hand?  _ You mean...you hand write everything?”

“Usually, yes. That’s what I’ve always done. We have typewriters in our world, which don’t seem as... _ advanced  _ as this device here. But it was more effort to use those than to write it out on sheets or rolls of paper.”

“That’s so archaic,” Mary breathed. She couldn't help but return Marisa's smile. “Like something from the last century.”

"Just call me retro, then," Marisa sang with a glint in her eyes, and Mary puffed before turning back to the screen. She was almost done entering it all in. 

“Okay,” Mary said, punching in the last digit and then removing her hand. Marisa came even closer, leaning in right next to her so that they were both staring intently at the screen. “Let’s see what you can do here.”

As Mary hooked up the electrodes to her temples ( _ another  _ lengthy description she had to give Marisa), she hesitated. She was aware that she still had to be very, very careful. She didn’t know if this would work, and she didn’t want to overload the computer. But she  _ also _ didn’t want to give Marisa too much information if it  _ did  _ work. She hadn't proven at all during their time together that she wasn't a threat to Lyra. Her actions, in fact, seemed to suggest the complete opposite. Mary thus felt so conflicted in this moment. She didn’t know whether she wanted it to work or if she wanted it to fail, which felt  _ horrible.  _

“Is Lyra safe,” she decided to type. That seemed harmless enough. “A simple question. Yes or no.”

“Why don’t you ask where she is?” Marisa asked her, voice insistent. Their shoulders were brushing now as Marisa stared hungrily at the monitor. Mary could tell how important this was to her, as well as  _ feel  _ the energy practically wash over her.

“Well, it’s not necessarily programmed for that yet,” Mary tried to explain, looking down at her notebook.  _ And I don't want you to know the answer to that particular question.  _ “You see, the computer has only so much brain power, and I have to manually go in and teach it how to say words. And programming it to answer yes or no questions is what is most feasible at this moment.”

“Very well,” Marisa said, sounding disappointed. “Get on with it then.”

Mary closed her eyes as she had before and tried to focus entirely on the task at hand, while also  _ not.  _ She listened to the hum of the equipment and the crinkling of the static. She concentrated on her breathing, and on Marisa's. But then she practically  _ felt  _ Marisa’s breathing as she was leaning so incredibly close to her. Mary's mind drifted to thinking about that  _ kiss  _ last night, and she felt her cheeks redden. She worried Marisa would look at her and see. Oh, that'd be so  _ embarrassing,  _ as it seemed Mary was always such a  _ mess  _ around her when truly she  _ wasn't _ normally like this _ …  _

"Dr. Malone!" 

Mary heard excitement in Marisa's voice before hearing the beeping of the monitor. Mary's heart leapt as she snapped open her eyes to look at the screen, but nothing was there. And then the beeping stopped. 

"Damn it," Mary let out, leaning forward and looking closely at the screen. There should have been a typed response there that correlated with the particle movement. A simple y or n. 

"What happened?" 

“It’s no good,” said Mary after several more seconds, and she sighed. She’d done everything she could. She’d typed in her question while hooked up to the device. It was the same way Lyra had done it, minus the code to translate the waves. But even there Mary was having trouble. She just couldn’t get the same kind of response as Lyra did. She couldn't seem to clear her mind enough. Peeking over at Marisa, who was biting her lip as she stared anxiously back, Mary thought she knew why. Her distracted state mirrored what had happened before but it wasn't quite enough. Mary didn't know what _was_ enough for this to work. 

“Why not?” Marisa asked, looking from Mary to the machine and then back again.

“I can’t concentrate right now,” Mary said, ripping the electrodes off more roughly than she’d intended. It was all very frustrating, when something didn’t work and she didn’t exactly know why. Focus issues aside, the computer showed no indication that her code had actually worked. It was like starting at ground zero all over again. Nothing seemed to have happened. 

Marisa simply gazed at her, something  _ else  _ flickering in her eyes now as she observed. “May I try something?”

“Go ahead,” Mary snorted, handing her the white cords and finding it entirely ridiculous. Marisa didn’t know this machine as well as Mary did.  _ No one  _ knew it better than Mary did. She could try, and Mary genuinely hoped she could help, but she didn’t see it possible. 

Again, Mary began to wonder what in the  _ world  _ she was doing and if she was actually going mad. And she wondered why she even let Marisa be here and what any of it would even do. 

“You said you’ve elicited the strongest responses from man-made items,” Marisa said aloud, looking at the cords and then at the monitor carefully.

“Yes,” Mary said. “Especially the I-Chang.”

“And then you personally were able to make it move.”

“Only once, when I sort of wasn’t thinking about it.”

Marisa was very quiet for a few more moments. Mary looked at her and could practically see her mind whirling, seemingly considering various options and calculating a course of action. What was she thinking about? What did she want to try?

“Do you know what it is that connects humans and their daemons, Dr. Malone?” she said very slowly a few moments later, turning to look at her.

“No,” said Mary, feeling her brow furrow. 

“Hmm,” Marisa mused, and she didn’t say anything else as she looked down at the monkey, raised her eyebrows, and then did the most remarkable thing: bent to hook up the electrodes to  _ his  _ temples.

Mary wasn’t expecting that. She didn’t know  _ what  _ she’d expected from Marisa, but it wasn’t  _ that,  _ and it  _ certainly  _ wasn’t the knowing smile Marisa flashed at her.

“He’s clearing his mind now,” she explained, lowering her gaze to him. Indeed he seemed to be in a trance. All Mary could do was watch him, her heart beating faster as she began to wonder again what daemons exactly were and what they were made of. He was conscious, she knew, but he wasn’t  _ man-made,  _ was he? How would that factor into Mary’s findings and theories? It didn’t seem like it would make any sense.

But then she heard the unmistakable bing from the monitor.

“I’ll be damned,” Mary breathed. The particles began to move every which way on the screen, practically bouncing off the screen.

“Is this what it did before?” Marisa asked. She was leaning down close again, but Mary only had eyes on the screen. 

“More so,” Mary said, reaching for her notebook and preparing a pen to record down anything that visualized before them. But nothing did, as the particles continued to scatter until the whole screen almost looked like TV static. It was active, it was  _ alive,  _ almost, but it was incomprehensible.

“He needs to keep his mind still,” Mary murmured. She got the impression that the machine didn’t know how to handle what was being fed to it, which would make sense. What was the monkey, even, if conscious and intelligent but not corporeal or artificial? It was incredible to think about. Mary wondered what  _ else _ she could hook up to the machine to compare, and what the differences would be...

Before Mary could do anything else, Marisa dropped to a crouch and sneered at him, her nose inches away from his.

“You heard her,” she said quite harshly. Mary heard the monkey whimper slightly. “Clear your mind.”

“It’s alright,” Mary added to him, feeling a sharp pang of pity for him now as he sat there on the cold, dirty floor with wiring hooked up to his head. Gosh, did he even understand what it is they were doing? Did Marisa even  _ ask  _ him? How did that work? She knew they communicated telepathically, but what counted as consent when they were one and the same individual?

“He’s ruining it,” Marisa said as she stood up, still glaring down at him.

“No, he’s doing fine,” said Mary, locking eyes with him. “In fact, I think maybe what we—what we should all do is take a break. Does that sound alright?”

Marisa opened her mouth to argue, Mary was sure, but before she could do so, Mary reached down to unhook the electrodes from the monkey’s head.

The strangest thing happened then. Both the woman and the monkey jumped. Marisa let out a gasp, as if she were gulping for air after being submerged in water; the monkey let out a small whine that seemed more sad than anything else. 

“What happened?” Mary asked, looking up at Marisa. She appeared assaulted as she leaned against the desk, her face twisted and goosebumps moving up and down her arms. That was nothing compared to her  _ eyes,  _ which met Mary’s with such scorching anger but also confusion that Mary didn’t even know what to do or say.

“Nothing,” the woman said a few beats later, shaking her head. Her eyes were back to their steely neutral state, although her arms were still bumped and her posture still looked very shaken. “A break now, you said? That sounds like a fine idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could write chapters and chapters of Mary and Marisa being all smart and sciencey together....! But, I promise I will try to keep it balanced as we progress further :D Thanks so much for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Marisa take a break for ice cream, where Mary learns more about the connection between humans and their daemons and begins to worry about the exact nature of Marisa’s work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I don't know if Dippin' Dots is that prevalent in the UK, but this idea was too cute and I couldn't help it.  
> 2) Second half of the chapter discusses more explicitly severing daemons, so just heads up/TW!

For their research break, Mary decided to take Marisa out for a treat. They'd packed up their belongings (with Marisa coaxing the monkey back into the handbag or else threatening to leave him behind) and made their way over to the nearest food court, where Mary knew they had a little ice cream station. 

They needed a break from their work with participles and dark matter consciousness. It was rather intense, the work that Mary was attempting to do. It had never been done before, so there came a certain sense of the unknown and of the impossible flecked with the probable that Lyra herself had revealed to Mary.  _ That  _ was the one thing which made this particular project more daunting and more troubling than any others Mary had encountered. There was a way to do it that she had to discover, and that a  _ child  _ had told her she had to discover.

That, of course, and the fact that Mary was hounded by the presence of said child’s mother, whose intentions  _ still  _ weren’t entirely clear to her. 

"This all seems quite… _ commercial,"  _ Marisa commented as they entered the building, her eyes scanning the little shops and kiosks and academics running to and fro. It was just after lunchtime, but that didn't really matter much on a university campus. People ate when they had time or when they remembered; they also held meetings over coffee or over fries just to get a change of scenery. There was never a point where the food court  _ wasn't  _ busy, or when people  _ weren't  _ buying this or buying that.

"Isn't your campus like this?" Mary wondered aloud as she led the way over to the ice cream stall, weaving artfully between giggling groups of undergraduates.

"No," said Marisa, looking affronted as one boy and his backpack accidentally bumped into her. It took all of Mary’s self-control not to laugh at her and the fire practically searing from her eyes. "Well, there were places that serve coffee. But it’s  _ in  _ the College as part of its services. Scholars and students alike live at the College." 

"Really?" 

So much was different between their two worlds, it seemed. In some ways it felt like Marisa was living in another time entirely, which Mary supposed could be true. She could spend hours asking Marisa about it. She wondered now what the residency requirements were. Did all students have to be from England? Was there such a thing as the UK? What about overseas and across the pond? How much did it cost to study? What kind of research did experimental theologians do? Were there different branches? 

All of these questions and many more flooded Mary's brain as they reached the counter. She greeted the worker warmly as she eyed the menu and continued to chat with Marisa, learning just some of her world’s customs as Marisa herself learned more about  _ Dippin’ Dots. _

“What  _ is  _ this?” Marisa marveled as Mary paid for their ice cream and they made their way back outside. She’d been fascinated by the Dippin’ Dots display so Mary encouraged her to try it, while she herself ordered a cake batter ice cream cone.

“It’s ice cream,” Mary explained, amused as Marisa carefully examined the package. Her eyes were narrowed as if she were in the middle of solving an equation. “It’s made by flash freezing ice cream mix in liquid nitrogen.”

_ “Really!”  _ Marisa was utterly enchanted as they discussed the process and found a place to sit on a bench near a tree. Mary laughed as she watched Marisa struggle with the packaging.

“You need to open it from the top,” said Mary softly, moving to take the package from her. Their fingers brushed, and Mary felt her face flush just a little bit as she opened it for Marisa as if she were a child. She  _ did  _ find herself taking care of Marisa in some ways, what with the takeout and learning the equipment and all the rest. Everything was so new to her and had to be explained properly. It was nice, though. Mary generally liked taking care of others.

_ If she stayed here, I could take care of her,  _ Mary thought, but then stopped as soon as she realized what, exactly, she was thinking and how she  _ still  _ barely knew  _ anything  _ about this woman. And it wasn’t as if that were really an  _ option,  _ anyway, for Marisa to stay here. She was very clearly only here to find Lyra and then leave with her.

Again, Mary had to get a grip on herself. She was letting these strange feelings occupy too much of her attention and drive her to delusions.

Their conversation promptly returned back to their work and what they’d discovered in the lab. Quite a lot had transpired, with the monkey being able to solicit an unstable reaction to the machine. Mary still wasn't able to get the particles to speak and communicate with her in the way Lyra seemed to suggest it could be done, but they'd made some very important progress, which was something to celebrate and not lose sight of. 

Mary couldn’t help but feel the lingering tension from the lab, though, and felt it was best to address it head on. 

“I want to know why you decided to hook up your daemon to the machine,” Mary asked her then, turning to look at her. Marisa’s eyes had been amused as they’d bantered about their favorite writing utensils (Marisa prefers pens, Mary learned), but now they hardened slightly, gazing at Mary with an estranged sort of seriousness. 

“I hate to answer a question with yet another question,” Marisa said after a while, tilting her head, “but I have to ask you again: do you know what links a human and their daemon?” Her gaze flickered over to the bag on the floor and then back to Mary, watching her expectantly.

“No,” Mary said again, frustrated. They’d already been through this. She didn’t have time for Marisa’s little games and bouts of questions and answers. They had  _ work  _ to do. “Just tell me.”

“Oh, don’t be dense,” Marisa tutted, smirking as Mary stiffened. “ _ Think  _ about it, Mary. What do you think creates the inseparable bond between a human and their daemon? And why do you think I might be asking you about it?”

Mary paused to think but found herself struck by something else: that Marisa had actually called her  _ Mary  _ instead of Dr. Malone _.  _ This entire time she never had, and blatantly refused when Mary directly invited it earlier. This thus felt quite important, and like something Mary should read more into. But she was looking at Marisa’s bag again and thinking over everything the woman had told her and all that she knew about how daemons worked. She didn't have  _ time  _ to get so distracted by little things like first names and any potential  _ feelings  _ attached to it. This was  _ important.  _ It all was.

“It couldn’t be,” Mary let out suddenly as it came to her, whipping around to stare at Marisa.

"Dust," Marisa confirmed, her tongue lingering on the last part of the word. Her eyes flashed. "Or, as you'd say, dark matter."

“No,” Mary breathed. It all seemed to make sense then as she looked back at the handbag. The golden monkey stuck his little head out, returning her stare. He seemed to  _ hate  _ being in there, and Mary realized again how he wasn’t just any regular animal. He was part of Marisa’s soul; he was thus  _ human  _ in the same way she was, yet not quite. And the bond that linked them was the very substance Mary was trying so desperately to communicate with.

Mary wondered then if that’s why the machine had an out-of-the-ordinary response while hooked up to the monkey, because of the vast presence of dark matter all around him and Marisa. But, where was it, and how did it look? Mary found her gaze wandering at the spaces between Marisa and her monkey. She wondered how the particles clustered, and what form they took. Was it a circle? A line? A random cloud of particles? How far apart were they?

“You won’t be able to see them, of course,” Marisa said knowingly. Her eyes were locked on Mary in a way that Mary might have found overbearing had she actually been paying attention to her instead of focused so intricately on seeing what she very well knew she couldn’t see.

“I wish we could see it,” Mary let out then, realizing her ice cream cone was starting to melt all over her hand now. She let out a puff of air as she moved to quickly lick at it to prevent it from spilling all over her lap. She saw something from the corner of her eye and saw Marisa handing her a napkin, her blue eyes still fervid.

“You can with the right equipment.”

“Really?” Mary was entranced as she sat there with her melting ice cream and this woman from another world. She knew that she could interact with the materials via the Cave, but she didn’t realize there were  _ other  _ means to do so, and felt awed as she leaned closer to Marisa.

“There are certain lenses that can make it work,” Marisa continued, “although I’ve only seen it done once and under very particular conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“In the furthest regions of the North in our world. Svalbard. By the aurora borealis, where the…. _ matter  _ between worlds is thinnest.”

“Is that how you arrived here?” Mary asked excitingly then, her hand slackening and her ice cream almost falling. “How did you get in? Did you break through?”

Something flickered through Marisa’s eyes at that and Mary heard the monkey shuffle around in the bag. Their trance was broken in that instant as thick tension again swirled around them, charging the mood and the air.

“There’s something else about the connection between humans and daemons that you should know,” Marisa explained, her posture suddenly stiffer now. “Regarding the bond between them. If you sever it, you release a massive burst of energy.”

“Sever it?” Mary repeated, doing her best to keep up despite the changed atmosphere around them. “But, to do that, would you be….you’d have to  _ separate  _ the two beings, split apart the soul…”

Marisa was watching very carefully as Mary tried to piece it together. It was strange, really, how she seemed to linger on every single word Mary said and mirrored every movement of her face. It was disturbing, almost, in a way Mary couldn’t quite process.

“Yes,” Marisa said curtly. “That is quite the point. The intercession of a daemon from its human, the splitting of a soul, as you’d put it, produces a force of energy so great that it can cut through anything—even worlds.”

“And the human and their daemon?” Mary demanded. She saw Marisa’s jaw twist, and Mary felt a sudden chill rush over her.

“I’ll remind you that the field is named ‘experimental’ partly because there is so much we do not know or do."

“You didn’t answer my question,” Mary snapped, and then they were glaring at one anther again, as they had so many times in their short entanglement together. “What happens to the human and their daemon when this severance happens?”

Marisa didn’t say anything. Her eyes simply lowered slightly before coming back to stare fiercely back at Mary, her jaw still locked and her shoulders tense.

Again Mary wondered just who exactly Marisa was and what she was doing. What did that mean, emphasizing 'experimental' and refusing to answer the question? What was Marisa’s involvement in this? Did she…. _ do  _ this? Separate a person from their daemon?

“Because I know you’re wondering,” Marisa said hotly a moment later, “no, I have  _ not  _ separated a person from their daemon to release a burst of energy to enter another world.”

It was as if Marisa had struck Mary with that, saying it out loud as she did. It sounded so silly, hearing it voiced into existence, as that was  _ exactly  _ what she was thinking and wondering and fearing and growing increasingly curious about. Marisa kept staring at her, defensiveness and something  _ else  _ flecked in her eyes. Mary started to feel guilty now, at what she’d assumed and where she’d gone.  _ Was  _ she being too critical of Marisa? (And  _ shouldn't  _ she be, though?) 

“Marisa, I’m sorry,” she offered quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply, I don’t think—oh gosh, I’m really awful, aren’t I?”

By instinct she reached her right hand out to rest gently on Marisa’s leg. It took Mary a moment to realize how intimate of a gesture that was, and she gave a quick start before removing her hand and tossing Marisa another look of apology and confusion and just general helplessness. She was doing everything wrong, it seemed, and breaking all kinds of social rules. 

Marisa didn't seem upset at her, though. She was still just so incredibly quiet and pensive. 

"Don’t worry yourself,” she finally sighed, and she took Mary’s hand then.  _ Actually  _ took it and held it, as someone might go to hold their partner’s. Mary was stunned as she sat there, her hand held gently by Marisa as the other woman was gazing off into the distance with that  _ look  _ still nestled in her eyes. The monkey had his little head out of the bag again, looking at Mary so woefully that for a moment all Mary could do was freeze, caught between woman and daemon.

Before Mary could do anything further, she heard footsteps. Both women turned (hands still together) to see two men approaching them then. Mary recognized one as Oliver Payne, her fellow researcher, but she didn't recognize the other. He was a black man with short, curled hair wearing a finely-pressed suit and a very wide grin as his eyes glinted at them. Marisa stiffened beside her, her grasp only tightening, and Mary soon learned why.

“There you are, Mary!” Oliver was saying, smiling but looking perplexed as he took in Marisa and the way she was scowling at his companion. “I have someone very important for you to meet: Sir Charles Latrom, who is quite interested in your most recent work and looking to possibly invest in it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this were a TV show, I think this would be considered the mid-season finale! :D Thank you so much for reading. I just love these two so much and am having such a good time with this. I hope to update soon, although with the new year my schedule is picking up and I probably can't sustain the quick pace I'd been updating. But I WILL keep updating!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of Sir Charles entering the scene, in which Mary and Marisa improvise.

“Hello, Dr. Malone,” Sir Charles drawled, his eyes narrowing and his cheeks lifting into what  _ seemed _ like a genuine smile but that Mary highly doubted due to the sheer discomfort she felt radiating off Marisa. Mary didn’t dare move. She simply stared ahead at her passively, aware of Marisa’s hand still tightly clinging to hers. Oliver's eyes were shifting back and forth between Mary and Marisa, his fake smile perfectly in-tact but his eyes betraying him. They said to her,  _ what are you doing?  _

This was bad. Mary knew this was bad. Marisa's behavior indicated as much to her. During their entire time knowing each other, Marisa was entirely cool, calm and collected, even during the middle of an _actual break-in._ Mary had begun to wonder if she were entirely human, as stupid as that was. So to see her act so alarmed here was really saying something, and suggested to Mary that she needed to tread very, very carefully. _Especially_ given what she'd learned about the man. 

"Hi," Mary eventually let out, and with that her connection with Marisa was broken as she wiggled free from her hold and stood up, pressing her lips up into a tight line. She sensed Marisa getting up beside her, too, but she didn't look over at her. "Can I help you with something?" 

Sir Charles smiled even wider as she came up to him, looking completely unimpressed and unfazed. She saw his eyes slide behind her over to Marisa (she wasn't kidding; he really  _ was  _ taken with her, wasn't he?). The tension in the air thickened, too, in a way that didn't seem natural. "I'd like to talk more about your work and the possibility of investing, but...am I interrupting something?" 

Oh. Now there was a tangible stand-off between Marisa and Sir Charles. He was looking at her plainly and openly now, which thus necessitated her to join the conversation. He was also leaving it up to her how to proceed in terms of how they knew each other (or if they even did). He hadn't said that he'd known her, or asked who she was. He was simply waiting, like a hunter eying his prey. It was uncomfortable, really. Mary felt herself pickle a little bit, as well as frown. 

She didn't want this man funding her work. This was the one thing entirely clear to her. Even if he  _ hadn't  _ been the one who orchestrated the break-in (which now seemed more likely), then just his conduct alone would be enough to turn her away from him. He was arrogant, entitled, greedy, and chauvinistic. No good could come from a working relationship with him. Mary felt it deep in her bones, the unease and the malevolence. And now, she had to try and deal with that while  _ also  _ making sure Marisa was alright. 

"No, not at all," Marisa said sweetly then. She'd come up to stand next to Mary (although not  _ too  _ close) and dipped her head. "I was just leaving now, actually, so good day."

And then in a surprising turn of events she sped off to the right, hands folded in front of her and her pace light but brisk. Oliver let out an awkward chuckle, still staring at Mary with those  _ eyes.  _ Sir Charles, meanwhile, had almost lunged after her. Mary watched his entire body bristle and lean toward her when she'd passed. It was gross, really, but Mary also worried how far he'd take it. Men like him were unpredictable, unreasonable.  _ Again  _ Mary had watched far too many of those stupid American Lifetime movies. 

"Well, then," Oliver said brightly, clearing his throat. "Why don't we head back over to the lab and we can—" 

"She left her bag." Sir Charles' eyes darted back down over to the bench where, indeed, Marisa's dark brown handbag—and the golden monkey—was resting on the side. "Perhaps I should—" 

"I'll go give it to her and then meet the two of you back at the lab," Mary said quickly. Sir Charles turned to glare at her, his dark eyes narrowed, but Mary paid him no mind. "Go on. It won't take long. Oliver can get you caught up to speed, can't you, Oliver?" 

And soon Mary had the bag swung over her right shoulder as she made her way over to the way she saw Marisa disappear. Her heart was pounding. Actually racing, as if she were involved in some kind of chase. It certainly  _ felt  _ like that, at any rate, since the presence and promise of Sir Charles seemed entirely dangerous. It was also something she needed to carefully watch, as Marisa had warned how  _ greedy  _ he was. Mary could only wonder  _ what  _ he'd try to do if he ever got his dirty little hands on her work. But that was a later-order concern. Right now she had an early-order concern of figuring out where the heck Marisa went. 

She checked behind her to make sure no one was following before she looked down at the handbag and then opened the flaps. A little golden head popped out. 

"Are you alright?" she murmured to him. He nodded back, his small eyes pained yet bright as he looked around. He was shivering slightly, and suddenly Mary wondered how it felt for him to be separated from his human, and, if they were connected by dark matter, how far that connection could be stretched. It was a curious thing, and it suddenly made more sense why Marisa carried him around with her all the time. 

"Are you sure?" she asked again, and this time he simply stared back, his eyes wide. Those eyes said everything Mary needed to know. She felt such pity and compassion course through her, which was strange, really, since they were in such immediate danger still. She was vaguely walking down the sidewalk toward the general direction Marisa had gone and wasn't sure if she was even following her. Surely she hadn't gone far, and had purposely left her bag for Mary to find and come searching for her? Mary  _ would  _ be able to find her? 

"Where is she?" Mary murmured aloud. The monkey moved a bit further out of the bag, looking around and gesturing for Mary to go one way or another. 

After another couple minutes, Mary heard someone come up behind her. She whipped around, clutching the bag to her chest. The golden monkey bore his fangs, trying to help her. 

But it was Marisa, her blue eyes wide and glittering over at her. 

_ "There  _ you are!" Mary let out. Such relief flooded through her at the sight of Marisa standing there, in her wrinkled blue suit outfit from days ago. She seemed calm as she considered Mary, her gaze sliding down to look at the golden monkey who was still hanging out of the bag. And then before Mary could help herself, she rushed forward to embrace her. 

Marisa was surprised as Mary wrapped her arms around her. Mary could feel her stiffen at the contact. But then she loosened and placed her hands on Mary's back, returning the hug and holding Mary closer. Marisa was warm and soft. Mary felt light as they stood there together, Marisa's scent swirling around her. She almost felt dizzy as Marisa squeezed her just a little bit tighter before slackening and then letting her go. 

"Where is he?" Marisa asked, her eyes searching Mary's. 

"At the lab," Mary sighed as she set the bag and the monkey down. "I have to go back." 

"You can't trust him."

"Well, obviously."

"He'll say he wants to invest in your work in the name of public defense. But he's lying." Marisa eyed her coolly. "He doesn't care about the defense of this bloody country, of this entire  _ world.  _ He wants it for himself. He's made a life selling and profiting off the secrets between worlds. You mustn't tell him anything."

"Okay," Mary said. She felt and heard herself gulp, which seemed a little pathetic. But this was serious, and Mary was just starting to see how incredibly important this all was. She again felt wrapped up in a plan bigger and more sinister than she ever could imagine. She wondered what she was supposed to do, now that she was caught so thoroughly in the midst of all of it. 

"Lie," Marisa continued. She placed a hand on Mary's shoulder, which felt comfortably steadying in that moment. "Tell him it's not working and you can't get it to communicate. Say you've made no progress at all and there's no indication it'll ever work." 

"But, Oliver will be there," Mary murmured aloud, "and I told him that—" 

"Lie," Marisa repeated. Her eyes were sparkling again, like the time they'd first met. "Convince Latrom, convince Oliver—convince  _ yourself,  _ Mary. And then they'll believe you, and Lyra will be safe."

Her voice trembled at the mention of Lyra. It was intense, the way she stared directly into Mary's eyes to say what words alone couldn't articulate. Mary realized then in that moment Marisa wasn't scared for  _ herself  _ but for  _ Lyra... _ maybe? Wasn't she? 

Oh, Mary felt so confused, and like she should be more critical than she was being. But she couldn't help but trust Marisa in this moment. 

"You should go back to my house," Mary said then, suddenly remembering that she had to go and that  _ Marisa  _ needed to go somewhere where she would be safe. Mary's home was the only place she could think of. She pulled her backpack around and fiddled in the front pouch for her keys. "I'll come back as soon as I can." 

"Are you sure?" Marisa asked. She seemed genuinely surprised at the offer as she reached down to pick up her bag. The money was still peeking out, and Mary caught a look of such warmth in his eyes before Marisa swung the bag up and he dipped back inside. 

"Yeah, of course. Nothing there you wouldn't have seen already, after all."

"Thank you," Marisa said. After a moment of hesitation, she lifted her hand to gently touch Mary's face. 

Mary blushed as Marisa smiled and then lowered her hand to take the keys from her, fingers lingering again as they brushed hers. Mary felt lost, in a way, as Marisa nodded and then headed back towed the main road, keys jangling in her hand and bag bouncing by her hip. She might have felt helpless before, but now she was completely and utterly gone. And she knew that it was a very big problem. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: apologies for my delay! I'd been writing other Mary/Marisa fics and I also have other multi-chap stories (and my actual job, lol) so hence a bit of a backlog. But I have been working on and planning this story and am SO excited for it. 
> 
> Like with the earlier "Marisa hanging at Mary's house" sequence, this encounter with Sir Charles will be broken up into (at least) two parts :) Hope you enjoyed!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Sir Charles entering the scene, in which Mary gets defensive and as bold as she dares to be.

As Mary fully expected, Oliver was waiting for her just outside the lab entrance, pacing alongside the elevator doors. 

_ "Mary!"  _ he hissed as soon as she stepped off, his brown eyes narrowed as he quickly ushered her off to the side away from the main archway. "What are you doing?  _ Jesus,  _ you're making us look so  _ bad _ ." 

Mary slumped her shoulders and leaned against the wall as she waited for him to get on with it. She could understand why he'd be upset. Oliver was a highly intelligent man, having earned his doctorate only a few years after her and having discovered the existence of Shadows that proved essential for their joint research here in their department. He also was rather naive, though, and clearly didn't understand the severity of the situation here with Latrom. And how could he, really? Mary supposed Latrom seemed normal enough to the casual observer, to the desperate researcher trying to secure funding or else find a new job entirely. He was well-dressed and well-spoken and seemingly interested in the most cutting edge of science. It made sense. Mary couldn't actually blame Oliver. 

"This man is bad news, Oliver," she explained as he continued to press her. "We need to get him out as quickly as possible."

"What?" Oliver asked, and he seemed genuinely surprised. "Do you  _ know  _ him?"

"My friend does," Mary said carefully, and she felt herself tense as Oliver gaped at her and rolled his eyes. 

"Friend?  _ What _ friend? That  _ woman  _ you were with earlier?" 

Something about the way he said it bothered Mary: that  _ woman  _ she was with earlier. She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but it made her feel suddenly defensive and a little angry. Maybe it was how dismissive Oliver was being, and how it didn't seem to compute with him that Latrom might indeed not be as smooth as he wanted to appear. Or, as Mary increasingly wondered, maybe it was because of how Mary  _ cared  _ about "that" woman, and yet still how she didn't quite know  _ what  _ it was she was feeling. "Yes. And what does it matter to you, Oliver? She knows him and after talking with her, I don't feel comfortable working with him."

"How does she know him?" Oliver questioned, eyes searching. "Mary, there was...something weird going on between them. Were they having a lover's quarrel or something? And you're going to let  _ that  _ turn you away from a potential key investor?" 

"Don't insult my intelligence, Oliver," Mary snapped at him, and she didn't know what made her angrier: the fact he thought she'd be stupid enough to let that influence her, that it  _ might  _ indeed be influencing her, or the fact that he'd lumped them together when Mary knew the fuller story (or, at least what she  _ thought  _ was the fuller story).

"Sorry, but, that's nonsense," Oliver continued. "He's a gentleman with  _ quite  _ the reputable company and, more importantly,  _ a lot  _ of money to invest." 

"That's precisely the problem!" Mary shot back. "Since when have we ever as scientists lined up to sell out to whoever had the deepest pocket? That's dangerous, Oliver."

"Not when the only other alternative is getting shut down and going nowhere! What are you  _ doing,  _ Mary? Do you  _ want  _ to get shut down? Do you want them to kick us out of the lab?" 

"Of course I don't," she snapped back, and at this she paused, considering all of her options. 

Under no circumstances could she actually go through with this and allow Latrom to control her research. That was taboo, that was a no-go. She wouldn't settle for it. But at the same time, Oliver had a point. They were literally about the have the power cut on all of their work, and what good could they possibly do if they couldn't even run their tests and keep the equipment they'd spent so many months and years developing? Would the good they could produce somehow cancel out the bad someone like Latrom would bring? 

Mary didn't know. She couldn't think. She wished she didn't have to  _ deal  _ with this right now, when so much  _ else  _ was going on. And, she realized, she wished she'd learned more from Marisa before she'd headed back to the house. She wondered how the brunette would handle it, and got the impression she'd handle it a lot better than Mary herself currently was. 

"Look," Mary sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, "we'll talk to him today but I do  _ not  _ like this, Oliver. And I will  _ not  _ commit to anything today."

"That's fine!" he said, and relief flooded his features at that. "All I want is for us to talk. That's it. Can we do that?" 

"Yes," she offered, although she still felt entirely dreadful about the ordeal as Oliver took a deep breath, straightened out his jacket, and then led the way back into the lab where Latrom was prowling near the Cave engine. 

"Sir," Oliver called out, "thank you so patiently for waiting. Dr. Malone is back now."

As he turned around to face them, arms folded in front him as if he were surveying the most astute of paintings, Mary saw that  _ look  _ flash across his face: greedy, distrusting, malicious. Instant alarm spread through her as they exchanged greetings and pleasantries and Oliver began launching into an introduction of their work and all of Mary's credentials. She felt such a foreboding sense of discomfort strike her as Latrom continued to watch her as Oliver spoke. It was no good at all, even without Marisa's testimony. 

After about ten minutes or so, Latrom himself cut in. 

"Dr. Payne," he said, his voice low and smooth, "could I be so bold as to ask a favor of you?" 

"Of course!" Oliver answered eagerly,  _ oh  _ too eagerly. Mary groaned inwardly as she watched Latrom's eyes practically dance with triumph. 

"I'm absolutely parched and could do with some coffee."

"Coffee? Oh, yes, I can go grab you some." Oliver eyed Mary then, his brow furrowing. "Perhaps we could  _ all  _ go? Unless you'd…like to continue observing the lab?" 

"I'd like to continue observing, yes," Latrom crooned. With one more uneasy look at Mary, Oliver nodded and muttered his farewells before turning around and heading toward the elevator, turning around to glance at them a couple times. 

As soon as the elevator doors closed Latrom rounded on her. "I need to know where she is." 

_ "Excuse  _ me?" Mary puffed, hoping her indignant offense was believable enough. "What are you talking about?" 

"Oh, don't play coy with me, Dr. Malone," he returned. He was angry.  _ Very,  _ very angry. And it was so disconcerting since he was so  _ charming  _ and agreeable when Oliver was here, asking questions about the machinery and Oliver's work and Mary's work and little questions about their lives. 

This was quite disturbing. Sir Charles seemed, in this very moment, very much like a predator: an actual, dangerous predator like in all of those TV specials Mary watched late at night when nothing good was on. He was towering over her now as he glared at her, demanding the whereabouts of Marisa as if he were her  _ husband  _ and as if he  _ owned  _ her. 

_ What if he  _ **_was_ ** _ her husband?  _ Mary thought somewhere in the back of her mind. She realized, yet again, she knew very little about Marisa, and only ever what she  _ said,  _ not necessarily what was  _ true.  _ But even so and even if he were, this wasn't good. His behavior bothered her in a way she felt in her gut. Mary bit her lip then as she considered him, and actually started to feel  _ bad  _ for him before shaking herself out of it. 

"Let's cut right to the chase," Mary said next, deciding the best strategy was to take control of the situation as best she could. "You're here because you want to use my machine. Yes?" 

He hesitated then, his rage and desire fighting across his face as his eyes flicked over hers and he shifted weight to his other foot. “Correct.”

“You want to offer to continue funding our work so you can control it,” Mary continued, feeling her insides simply  _ scream  _ at how bold and seemingly tough she was acting. “You’ll want premiere access to anything we discover, and you’ll write somewhere into the funding agreement that you can do so.”

“Naturally,” he drawled, still watching her very,  _ very  _ carefully. Mary also got the impression that something  _ else  _ was here, too. She couldn’t quite describe it, but she felt another presence in the room somewhere. She felt  _ watched.  _ She felt  _ studied. _

“Short story is that it’s not working yet,” Mary said then, taking care to keep her tone curt. “Long story is I don’t know if it’ll ever work.”

“Is that not the purpose of funding?” Latrom challenged, raising a brow. He was still impatient and anxious, Mary could tell, but starting to get a bit offended, it seemed. Mary could understand why, as typically the people  _ being  _ funded were not the ones who set the  _ parameters  _ of funding in quite this way. It was a rather unorthodox approach, but, truly, everything about Mary’s life was currently unorthodox. So what was one more thing?

“You misunderstand me,” Mary said, and then she paused for a moment, remembering Marisa’s words.  _ Lie. Convince Latrom, convince Oliver—convince yourself, Mary. And then they'll believe you.  _ Mary had to lie. Not only for her sake, but for Marisa’s. And for Lyra’s. “It’ll  _ never  _ work.”

“Not yet,” he corrected, but Mary cut him off before he could continue.

“Not  _ ever, _ ” she insisted, and she sighed then, allowing her glance to wander over to the engine back behind the glass wall. “This is all a bunch of rubbish, really. It sounds interesting and promising, but I don’t think it’ll ever do what we say it can do.”

“What are you talking about?” Latrom snapped, and for a moment he dropped his hostility to reveal what felt like genuine confusion.

“I’m doing it for the publications,” Mary went on, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know what Oliver believes or what he wants. He’s overly optimistic and romantic about this kind of thing. But I just want to get some papers out so I can go up for full professor in a couple years. So let’s not waste our time together and think you can gain anything by funding this work. You should find something else.”

For a moment, Mary wondered if it worked. He was looking at her very strangely now. His eyes scanned hers and then moved all around her face before turning back to the engine. He then walked over to it, looking at the writing she’d scribbled sloppily on the glass—the same calculations Marisa had laced her fingers over earlier that morning as she tried to take in what they said. 

“You’re lying,” he returned after a while, still facing the machine, “and I’m not sure why.” Mary’s heart stopped as she stood there, frozen as he continued to look at the machine with his back turned to her. Her mouth was suddenly dry, too. “And frankly, I don’t particularly care why, but I ask for you to do this.”

He turned around and came back over to her now, his face shining with a sort of patriarchal, misogynistic arrogance that Mary had spent her entire life growing to hate. “Tell Marisa to stop with these games because I happen to have something she  _ very  _ much desires.”

“Is that a threat?” Mary piped up, still surprised at how  _ bold  _ she could be given these circumstances, and how quickly her heart continued to pound. 

“It’s a fact,” Latrom stated, and suddenly he smiled as he heard the elevator ding from behind them. His eyes went to it while Mary’s continued to bore into him. “She’ll know what I’m talking about. As for now, let’s put on some pleasantries with your research partner and then I’ll see that you’re contacted later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary v Boreal/Latrom might just be one of my favorite things. :) Thanks for reading as we progress with the story!


End file.
